


Love's Like a Batarang

by njw



Series: Where's My Goddamn Dinosaur [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Bat Brothers, Batfamily Feels, Bruce Has Issues, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Shenanigans, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multiverse, Protective Bruce Wayne, he will go to another UNIVERSE if it means protecting his kids, just different relationships in different universes, main pairing is still Tim Drake/Jason Todd, no seriously, oh god the relationship tags are starting to look like a Tim-centric gangbang, this is not a Tim-centric gangbang, well he's working on it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-06-16 08:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 63,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15432891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njw/pseuds/njw
Summary: The other Bruce narrows his eyes at Batman, clearly judging and finding him wanting. “As we both know, traveling directly between our universes would disrupt their stability. It took me some time to develop a workaround, or I would have given you this much sooner.”He telegraphs nothing, which is why Batman has no time to react or dodge the solid punch that knocks him clean off his feet and onto the hard Cave floor, jaw on fire.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place immediately following the first scene in the epilogue of Where's My Goddamn Dinosaur; subsequent chapters will take place after the epilogue. Enjoy!

Bruce tilts his head, attention piqued by something out of place amidst the muted drone of the news anchor’s overly cheery tones in the background. Slowly, he lowers the tools in his hands back to the workbench and pushes off his cowl as he turns up the volume.

_What in the world…?_

He finds himself listening closely to the news program, brow furrowed in concentration.

“And for our top local story of the day, a mysterious computer virus urging Gothamites to _‘wrap it before you pack it’_ took over all electronic devices in an expanding radius beginning downtown and eventually covering nearly all of Gotham earlier today, causing the devices to display a slideshow depicting graphic images of sexually transmitted diseases and other potential harmful consequences of sexual intercourse. We have some footage from the still-unexplained event. The images you are about to view are graphic and may not be suitable for younger viewers or those with heart conditions.”

“Bafflingly, the accompanying voiceover is allegedly narrated by none other than Gotham's own notorious playboy, Bruce Wayne, father of at least one allegedly illegitimate child. One has to wonder if Mr. Wayne is sharing this hard-earned lesson because of that particular incident, or if another little announcement from him may be just around the corner.”

_What._

Bruce blinks slowly, staring at the screen and recognizing several choice images from the tried-and-true slideshow he created in desperation back when Dick was a preteen and came to him with a series of increasingly awkward and uncomfortable questions. The same slideshow served him well over the years to teach each of his subsequent young protégées about the importance of practicing safe sex and the potential consequences of failure to do so.

Despite the children’s vociferous protests and horrified reactions to being forced to watch the slideshow, to Bruce’s knowledge none of them ever subsequently contracted an STD, turned up pregnant, injured themselves through inappropriately salacious use of power tools, or skulked into an emergency room with a foreign object lodged somewhere both painful and humiliating, so the slideshow has proven its effectiveness with time.

But that does not answer the question as to _why_ on _earth_ one of his team apparently chose to broadcast the slideshow _throughout all of Gotham._

The news program continues into another segment covering background and new developments on a recent string of arsonist attacks in the city, and Bruce lowers the volume again so he can absorb what he just heard and seek a logical explanation.

 _It must be some kind of prank,_ he eventually decides after weighing the known evidence.

The children he has trained all demonstrate what Bruce considers an irrationally exaggerated terror of the slideshow and would never subject themselves to it of their own volition. Perhaps one of them created some kind of computer virus to trick one or more of their brothers into watching it again, and things got out of hand. Tim and Barbara both certainly have the skillset to craft a targeted virus carrying an executable file which would cause the slideshow to play on any device. Any of the others might have difficulty doing so, which could conceivably result in the virus getting out of control and affecting other devices unintentionally.

Bruce recalls the map of Gotham which flashed briefly on the screen, a boundary marking a large circle within which the anomaly occurred, centered around…

 _Tim’s headquarters._ Bruce smirks, then frowns at the discrepancy.

Of all his assorted associates, Tim himself is the most likely candidate to engineer something like this, but it looks as though Tim was the targeted _victim,_ not the perpetrator _._ Additionally, Tim would most likely not make the mistake of allowing the program to cascade out beyond the targeted device, which supports the hypothesis that this was a practical joke one of the others carried out against Tim.

_I’m missing something._

Bruce is still puzzling out the implications and trying to decide whether the matter is worth pursuing, if only to reprimand the involved parties for the data breach, however innocuous, when the spare Batmobile pulls silently into the Cave and parks itself.

Of course Bruce noticed Jason ‘borrowing’ the vehicle earlier, but he decided to allow it as a test of the boy’s recent improved attitude and apparent desire to clean up his act; if Jason truly wishes to rebuild trust, he will not have used the Batmobile for any truly nefarious purpose. Bruce just hopes he isn’t about to be disappointed.

He sighs, then approaches the vehicle to inspect it for gunshot holes, blood, or other suspect evidence. He is both surprised and relieved when there doesn’t appear to be any visible sign of damage or misuse.

_Jason taking the Batmobile out behind my back was somewhat concerning, but it’s a relief he doesn’t seem to have been up to any particular mischief…_

He experiences a mental image of his wildest, most dangerous and unstable son happily going for a harmless joyride in the Batmobile like the carefree young man he always should have been, and Bruce snorts, allowing himself a trace of a smile.

His mirth dies as another image rises up in his mind’s eye like a ghost of a much younger Jason begging to drive the Batmobile, grinning in the Robin suit and bouncing with youthful exuberance. His stomach knots, and he shoves the memory down, along with the regret.

Frowning, Bruce begins to turn away, only to freeze at the sight of some kind of suspicious material which seems to have been sprayed across the hood of the Batmobile. Perhaps he was too quick to dismiss his concerns. He leans in closer to inspect it, pulling out a kit to collect a sample for analysis.

_If Jason is up to something dangerous, it is my responsibility to investigate and determine the proper course of action to prevent him from doing anything criminal._

The fluid is milky white, slightly opalescent in appearance and seems to have coagulated slightly…

Bruce pulls on a pair of nitrile gloves to collect the sample, then rubs a small amount of the sticky fluid between his fingertips, brows drawing together in a frown of concentration as he stares at it intently. The texture and consistency reminds him of something… But _what?_

He draws his hand with the substance coating his fingers near his face, sniffing experimentally.

_Oh god. That’s—_

Eyes widening in horrified realization and cheeks flushing red with embarrassment and dismay, Bruce fumbles, dropping the sample kit from suddenly nerveless fingers.

 _So_ that’s _why Jason borrowed the Batmobile,_ he thinks as he practically rips the semen-tainted gloves off his hands and kicks them away in horror, unable to bring himself to look at the offending material on the hood.

 _I can’t believe Jason actually had_ sex _with someone on the_ Batmobile _—_

Bruce cuts off that train of thought, reflecting that no, this is actually very much something Jason might do. He shakes his head, failing to suppress a smile even as his mortified flush deepens. _Well, I’m glad Jason’s apparently found someone. He’s been alone far too long. Although… I suppose this_ may _have been a solo endeavor…_

Bruce shakes his head violently to force himself to stop analyzing _those_ possibilities, deciding very firmly he does _not_ want to know.

_It’s a relief that Jason’s rebellion is now taking the form of relatively harmless pranks against me and his brothers instead of anything more… volatile._

Awkward and embarrassing as it is to find his _son’s_ _coagulated ejaculate_ on his _car_ , it’s still worlds better than when Jason was Pit-crazed and in pain, lashing out against everyone and anyone he perceived to be in his way.

Bruce is still on thin ice with Jason as it is; he won’t bring this prank up unless it happens again. Sighing, he decides to drive the Batmobile through the carwash in the Cave himself. _Alfred shouldn’t be expected to clean that up._

As he straps himself into the vehicle, he remembers the other prank, with the slideshow, and wonders in passing if he should investigate further or check on Tim. Even though it appears innocuous and was probably just another instance of Jason playing a tasteless joke, there may be more to the situation than meets the eye. _Those two have a long negative history, even if they seem to have been working together without issues recently._

And Tim _did_ just return from an alternate universe where he interacted with an exact copy of himself, one displaced in both time and space, whom he was forced to abandon to his fate in said alternate universe lest the very fabric of time and space unravel.

Abandoning another version of himself was likely… _difficult…_ for Tim.

The boy might appreciate hearing from Bruce.

Bruce pauses momentarily, hand hovering over his phone to contact Tim. He cringes at the thought of an awkward conversation which would almost certainly veer into the type of emotional topics he actively endeavors to avoid, preferring to minimize non-Mission related interactions with his team.

 _What would I even say,_ he wonders, _and would I really be of any comfort to him? I am not…_ good… _at that kind of thing. Anyway, he has plenty of friends, and his brothers. He’s probably fine._

As he hesitates, the news anchor reveals an insignificant detail about the arson case which sparks a cascading series of revelations in Bruce’s mind and Batman turns back to his work, all other considerations forgotten or set aside as usual.

*

Tim softly traces patterns on a soundly sleeping Jason’s skin as they lie curled around one another in their bed, having finally managed to conquer Other Bruce’s ridiculous slideshow computer virus after hours of _very_ satisfying distraction. He wonders if he should be concerned that the Batmobile disappeared at some point, following its pre-programmed route back to the Cave, most definitely carrying evidence of their… _activities…_ and then decides he just doesn’t have the energy or willpower to worry about that right now.

 _I feel like I should thank Other Bruce somehow. His sending a computer virus home with me carrying the slideshow from_ hell _inadvertently caused me and Jay to have pretty much the best sex marathon_ ever _to distract ourselves from having to actually_ watch _the damn thing._

He pauses, realizing in this light he can see faint traces of old scars he’s never noticed before on Jason’s ear; a couple on the lobe, and several more higher up along the curved shell of his outer ear.

 _Piercings?_ Tim wonders, gently stroking the scars which all look to have healed over some time ago. Based on the positions of some of the scars, he wonders if Jason ever had an industrial and can’t help but picture how hot Jay must’ve looked with a metal barbell connecting two of his piercings. _Maybe it was for a case and that’s why he let them heal over after._

He wishes he could’ve seen it, and feels a faint recurrence of his own long-forgotten desire to gets his ears pierced, along with a wistful remembrance of the days when he could just ride his skateboard and be a kid. He wonders where that kid went, and if he’s still there somewhere, buried beneath all the years and challenges and heartache that chipped away at his childhood until he turned to look and it was gone.

It’s been a _long_ time since he thought about his own dreams. A long time since he put them all aside to perform the tasks he set himself, the duties he took on because there just wasn’t anyone else there to do it.

Tim looks at Jason’s ears again, and wonders. _I wish…_ Tim pushes down the thought before it fully forms. He has _more_ than enough, more than he ever could have hoped, with his family all talking to each other, and his team, and his job, and _Jason._ He shouldn’t be greedy and ask for anything else; life doesn’t work that way. At least, not in _his_ experience.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s not like Timothy Drake-Wayne could ever show up at a board meeting with pierced ears, not to mention _Batman’s_ reaction to one of his associates intentionally getting something done to their body that could be used as an identifying marker and potentially compromise all of their identities.

It’s a stupid dream. A kid’s dream, one he really should’ve let go by now. Tim curls up in Jason’s arms, and doesn’t think about it again.

For a moment, he lets his mind travel back to the other universe, _Other Tim’s_ universe, where the other Bruce and Dick and Jason and Alfred and even _Damian_ were all so accepting and protective of Other Tim. The universe where none of the worst, most painful events in their lives ever happened, where Other Tim always knows he is wanted and welcome and not just tolerated because he’s there.

Where everything’s different, but in a good way.

They would’ve been willing to let Tim himself stay in their universe, actually wanted to keep him right up until he told them it was impossible because hey, laws of physics and whatnot.

 _I bet Other Tim could get his ears pierced if he wanted,_ he thinks sleepily, then huffs a laugh at his own ridiculousness.

_I can’t believe I’m actually kind of jealous of my multiversal clone about something. Man, I’m just glad things worked out so well for him. I was really worried all that time I didn’t know where in the multiverse or when in the time stream he was, or if he’d be okay._

_Whatever, things have been getting better here with the family, and Jay’s my rock, no question. No way I’d settle for Baby Jay, sorry Other Tim._ He snorts at the thought.

 _Nope, not joining Baby Jay’s harem any time soon, even if those guys_ would _let me get piercings… damn, I’m gonna give myself the weirdest dreams with all these thoughts, aren’t I. Oh well. Jay’s here to comfort me if I wake up babbling incoherently about harems and the multiverse…_

Tim grins, shaking off his weird mood, and then lets his body relax against Jason’s as he sinks into the comfort and warmth of his boyfriend’s embrace.

And if sometimes after that he finds himself tracing his thumb absently along Jason’s ear, thinking wistful thoughts about might-have-beens, well, it’s not like he’s going to get in trouble for _dreaming_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Bruce, failing as a parent:** *Examines suspiciously semen-like fluid Jason left on the Batmobile* “What could this mysterious substance POSSIBLY be?” *Carefully tastes it* “Oh my GOD—”  
>  **Tim, angsting like a real boy:** “If I never HAVE any dreams, then life can never brutally CRUSH them!” *Touches Jason’s piercing scars frequently whilst visibly pining for piercings, adamantly denies wanting piercings whenever anyone asks*  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

Batman’s eyes widen imperceptibly behind the cowl as a flash of light in front of him explodes into a portal, engulfing him before he has time to do more than attempt to slam his gauntleted hand down on the alarm to lock down the Cave.

He isn’t quite fast enough.

 _At least none of the others are here right now,_ he finds himself thinking grimly as everything goes dark. _They’ll be safe._

The darkness only lasts for an instant, and he stills to take in the change in his surroundings, rapidly assessing the situation and evaluating potential courses of action.

 _Still the Cave… but not_ my _Cave._ Possibilities spin through his mind, from elaborate reconstructions to time travel to mental manipulation to an alternate universe. His gaze catches and holds on the only other person in the unfamiliar Cave.

_Himself._

“What do you want?” Batman growls, scanning the other for clues to his purpose.

His alternate pushes back the cowl, revealing a less lined, younger version of his own face, and studies him intently, demeanor tense and disapproving. “I regret the necessity of bringing you here in such a dramatic fashion; however, the matter was urgent.” His eyes narrow warningly. “…We need to talk.”

Batman stares at him consideringly, weighing the alternatives. He’s met many versions of himself over the years, and has rarely found it to be a positive experience. He seems to possess a disheartening number of evil counterparts across the multiverse. “About what?” He needs to draw the man out to learn about his plan, and what his interest may be in Batman’s universe.

_If he thinks he can manipulate me and bring harm to my world or my team, he’ll learn his mistake soon enough._

The other Bruce stares at him, one eyebrow lifting nearly imperceptibly. “Well, to begin with, your suspicion of me is counterproductive and unnecessary. Although I acknowledge I would react in much the same manner, given the circumstances.” His lips twitch in a wry smirk. “I’ll cut to the chase. The words ‘Other Tim’ should tell you all you need to know.”

Batman’s eyes widen involuntarily. Despite Tim’s report several years ago summarizing his jaunt into the multiverse, which emphasized his clone’s happiness and wellbeing in his new home, it still bothers Batman on some level that a version of one of his team is forever lost to them, unable to ever return to their universe.

It irritates him even more that he is unable to separate himself completely from such counterproductive emotions, which can only be detrimental to the Mission. He learned his lesson a long time ago about the consequences of investing too much care into another human being. As a result of that lesson, he tends to hold his team at arm’s length, and trained himself to think about them in professional terms while avoiding potentially loaded appellations such as _family_ whenever possible.

He knows that’s the best solution, the _only_ solution, to keep him functioning and on Mission.

And _yet…_

“If you’ve done anything to him—” Batman growls, taking a step toward the other, who tenses slightly as he meets him glare for glare.

“Of course I haven’t. He’s practically one of my sons; I would die before I allowed harm to befall any of my children.” The other Bruce’s scowl deepens. “That brings us to why I brought you here today.”

“Three years ago, Tim appeared in my universe with knowledge of an alternate future timeline. Yours. He saved Jason’s life, then went on to share information with me that brought the rest of my family together earlier than would have happened otherwise, sparing us all from a great deal of heartache and pain. Ultimately, he saved Jason from death, and he saved _me_ from becoming _you.”_

 _So why is the Bruce from the alternate universe that formed when my universe’s Tim Drake used the doomsday reset device contacting me this way? Doesn’t he realize how_ dangerous _this is for his world…?_

The other Bruce narrows his eyes at Batman, clearly judging and finding him wanting. “As we both know, traveling directly between our universes would disrupt their stability. It took me some time to develop a workaround, or I would have given you this _much_ sooner.”

He telegraphs _nothing,_ which is why Batman has no time to react or dodge the solid punch that knocks him clean off his feet and onto the hard Cave floor, jaw on fire.

 _I hit like a truck,_ he thinks with an incongruous mixture of confusion, anger and reluctant pride as he rolls smoothly back to his feet and tackles his opponent to the ground, indignant anger powering his blows and nearly smothering the trickle of uneasy guilt and apprehension stirred by the other Bruce’s words.

*

Bruce carefully dabs the blood from the older, wearier and infinitely more worn Batman’s temple, wincing in unwelcome sympathy as he decides the injury, the worst of the damage they inflicted on each other during their short but brutal exchange, doesn’t need stitches.

 _That was an even match, but I definitely had the better of him,_ he thinks with mixed satisfaction and shame. _Giving him a beating wasn’t according to plan at all, but he_ deserves _it, and the moment I_ saw _him I was just so_ furious…

He pauses in his ministrations to close his eyes and focus on regulating his breathing. The sight of the other Batman, the one who buried his heart with Jason and went on to send Tim as a child home to an empty, unloving house every night, allowed Dick to fall hard on his own without a net, welcomed Jason back from the dead with a goddamn _batarang to the throat_ instead of understanding and support, mistrusted and mistreated Damian as a little boy, and shoved Steph and Cass away to be hurt far from home…

Being in the man’s presence is affecting him more than he anticipated, but he had a handle on it right up until the bastard accused _him_ of hurting Tim. As though he would _ever._

Over the last few years, Bruce has been blessed with more family than he ever expected, greater happiness than he ever deserved. And it _aches_ that there is a universe where his children aren’t as happy, can’t rely on their _father’s_ love because he closed himself off in the wake of tragedy.

He can’t forget, because every time he sees Tim’s momentary surprise at being included or praised or treated like a _goddamn member of the family,_ he is reminded of the circumstances in which the boy grew up. Even now, Tim is _extremely_ protective of his younger self, despite Timmy being surrounded by people who love him and take care of him properly like the precious, well-loved child he is.

He can’t even imagine what the other boys are like, in this Batman’s universe. How much more damaged they are, because of the actions of the man who stands before him now.

It hurts even more because it is Bruce’s own failing; a version of _him_ who did this to his children, and everything in him urges him to _fix_ it.

Still, punching the other into the ground repeatedly, while satisfying… _deeply_ satisfying… was admittedly not the most constructive use of their time together. He needs to focus and get on with the plan to accomplish his task.

“So I take it this is a third universe, to circumvent the restrictions on direct travel between our universes?” The other Batman shifts, rolling his sore shoulders as he sits back.

Perhaps Bruce shouldn’t have suplexed him into the Cave floor quite so many times. “Yes. I chose a benign universe, one very divergent from both of ours, as a neutral meeting location. Our Justice League has worked with theirs several times recently to resolve an interdimensional incident, and their Batman was supportive once I explained our situation and requested use of their Cave for this meeting.”

Batman regards him intently. “And the reason you went to such lengths to arrange this encounter?” He raises a brow challengingly. “Besides the spar, which I suspect to have been unplanned.”

“Look.” Bruce forces himself to remain calm as he leads a suspicious Batman over to the Batcomputer where he opens the relevant files. The records spill across the screens in a slowly advancing slideshow, images changing at exactly the optimum pace for Bruce himself to take in information. He watches his double absorb the contents in silence.

Batman studies the display briefly, then looks up, a frown tightening his face.

“Why are you showing me this?” He glares at the records currently displayed, all of which document numerous incidents of childhood neglect and abuse.

Bruce knows what the other Batman is seeing. All of his mistakes with his children are gathered and presented in stark black and white. Bruce hesitates, trying to frame his words in as non-accusatory a manner as possible. He’s bad with emotions, they _both_ are, and if this is going to have any chance of working, he can’t put Batman on the defensive any more than he already has, or the man will refuse to cooperate and this entire effort will be for nothing.

“Consider the information before you; treat it just like any other case, and find a solution to the problem.” He stares at Batman, waiting to learn if he will be willing to analyze the data provided, or if he will obstinately resist seeing the facts in the same way he must have avoided facing these painful truths for _years_.

Batman glares at Bruce, who observes the moment the other man acknowledges his best method of returning home is simply cooperating despite his discomfort. “Fine,” Batman growls, clearly deciding to read the blasted reports, satisfy Bruce’s request, and then go home and do his level best to forget about this entire unpleasant encounter.

Bruce only hopes forcing the man to confront his past has the expected effect.

_Of course it will. He’s me, even if he’s a version who has gone further into the Bat than I ever wanted. If anything will reach him, it’s this._

He knows how his mind works, how he thinks. The carefully documented lives of each of his children, presented as side by side comparisons between Batman’s universe and his, annotated with commentary detailing exactly how Batman’s choices failed to prevent harm, directly caused it, or failed to acknowledge it at all resulting it yet further psychological damage to the vulnerable young people who depended on him, will penetrate the emotional walls the man has built around himself.

From the moment he found out how each of his children was hurt in the other universe, he has wanted to go to them, to hold them close and apologize and protect them from further suffering. He knows he _can’t._

He also knows Batman is _him,_ just older, wearier, and more battered. Somewhere deep inside, he must desperately long for the same thing, reconciliation and forgiveness and the chance to openly cherish and be cherished by the incredible children who by some miracle found their way into his life and heart.

Bruce just needs to break through to him and help him admit it to himself.

His kids are going to get those hugs, damn it, even if he has to punch some sense into the other Batman and remind him how to be a goddamn _father_.

*

Batman stares at the screen, numb with horror.

“I don’t… _how?_ How could you know all of this? I… I had no idea…” Stricken, he blinks rapidly, trying to focus on the blurring letters on the screen.

He swallows around the sharp pain in his throat. _Jason, oh my son, how I have failed you._ He remembers accusing Jason of causing his own death, and the sense of crushing shame and regret which accompanies his newfound knowledge of how very _wrong_ he was causes his fists to clench.

The other Bruce clears his throat, clearly still angry but also growing uncomfortable when faced with Batman’s raw emotional response. “As you know, my Jason survived the Joker’s attack. He was able to tell me about his mother’s betrayal himself, after Tim saved him. I… see why you would have made the assumptions you did, although I won’t pretend to comprehend your resulting actions.”

“I blamed _Jason_ for his death. I _told him it was his fault.”_

“I know.” Bruce scowls. “What I find most infuriating and _baffling,_ though, is the time you took a _batarang_ to your _traumatized, emotionally disturbed son’s throat—”_

“That was an accident,” Batman whispers, closing his eyes as though to block the memory playing in vivid color across his mind’s eye, mockingly. The gathered moisture slowly trickles unheeded down his cheeks as his face twists in anguish. Voice breaking, he continues hoarsely, “I never meant to- I was aiming for his _arm_ , damn it, just planning to tag him strongly enough to make him drop the gun, but I was upset, and shaking, and I _missed—”_

The other Bruce remains very still, visibly reigning himself in enough to speak without shouting. “Did you ever tell _him_ that you didn’t mean to do it? Did you ever think to _apologize?”_

“I… no. We were both so angry, and we don’t…” Batman opens his eyes again, rubbing them tiredly. “It is an understatement to say that we have never communicated well with each other. After the alien attack three years ago which resulted in Other Tim finding his way to your universe, Jason and I came to something of an understanding. It’s precarious enough without trying to bring up the past. But I don’t understand… How can he stand to be around me?” Batman presses his face into a shaking hand. “He… he’s my _son,_ and I…”

“He still loves you, obviously, despite everything you have done to sabotage that. They _all_ do, for whatever reason.”

Batman begins to protest that he doesn’t _deserve_ Jason’s love, and the other Bruce cuts him off, growling, “Then _change_ that. _Be better.”_

Batman inhales slowly, thoughts a tempest of doubts and duty, regrets and the shattered remnants of that iron control he has fought for so long, sacrificed _so much_ to maintain. Can he really change his path at this late juncture? With a gathering certainty, he realizes whether or not it’s even possible, he will never forgive himself if he doesn’t at least make the attempt.

“I… can try.” He frowns, refocusing. “But that doesn’t explain the rest of this. Some of it is familiar from case reports, but the remainder appears to be private recollections. You didn’t get all of this information from the Batcomputer data transfer Tim gave you originally, or I would have seen it before, and the past three years have been wildly divergent for our two universes, so almost none of this would have happened the same way for you. Why do you have such detailed information about my children’s lives?”

 _How can you know all of this, and yet I_ lived _it and was completely blind to so much of their suffering?_

The other Bruce nods minutely. “Most of the new data I gathered from the second data transfer, the one your Tim brought us when he briefly visited our universe. It included specific messages from each of your children for their alternate selves in my world. Each message included details of those incidents which had the worst impacts on their lives in your universe, some of which they had never told anyone before but were willing to share to try to save their alternate selves from having to endure the same suffering.”

Batman twitches, thoughts of Dick haunting him now. _Has he even spoken to anyone about what that woman_ did _to him? I should have been there for him. He should never have had to face all of that by himself. My god, none of them should have had to face any of this alone._

 _And Damian, I had no idea my words hurt him so badly. I didn’t trust him, considered him a potential threat to be monitored, with good reason… but he was a child,_ my _child, and he deserved more from me._

The other Bruce is still speaking, and Batman twitches, forcing himself to focus on the present. He will have plenty of time to castigate himself later.

“I did the research on Tim’s neglect myself; it was a simple matter to look into the travel and employment records for the Drakes to demonstrate their constant absence and lack of an appropriate caregiver in the home. Tim himself had to fill in the blanks for the period of time after he became Robin in your world, before his parents were attacked and you were _forced_ to finally allow that child to stay in the Manor instead of sending him away every night.”

Batman flinches. “He was better off—”

_“How?”_

“I’d already gotten one child murdered!” Batman explodes. “I was the _last_ person who should have had responsibility for another! And he _had_ parents—”

“A sociopath and an absent-minded fool, certainly, what more could any boy want?”

“He already _had_ a father—”

“Which disqualified him from ever having another, clearly, because no child has ever had _two fathers—”_

Batman cannot handle much more of this. He’s shaken by the revelations of the past hour, his entire worldview rocked out of alignment.

 _Just how did I miss all of this? How did I allow everything to go so far wrong? And why do my team… no, my_ children, _continue to put up with me, and look to me for approval? Don’t they realize what a mess I’ve made of their lives?_

“What do you _want_ from me?” Batman struggles to regain his composure.

Fails.

“No matter what I think now, I can’t change the past! What if there _is_ no solution to this case. Nothing I can do to correct my errors.” He glares bitterly at the other Bruce, who is looking down on him with an inscrutable expression which seems to peel away all his masks and condemn everything within him, all the weaknesses he’s ever tried to hide away in the dark. “And who the hell are _you_ to accuse me? You would have made the exact same mistakes! How dare _you_ blame me for this.” His chest is heaving, eyes burning as the damning images and words continue to scroll accusingly before his eyes.

The other Bruce clenches and unclenches his fists, staring into the darkness of the Cave. “I know,” he says roughly. “I _know_ I would have done the same things, and I hate it. That is exactly why I _have_ to help fix this.”

He stares at Batman, traces of warmth and understanding replacing some of the stern judgement and censure in his eyes. “Read the rest of these reports I prepared, and take copies of all the data with you when you return. You will find it highly informative.”

“And then?” Batman knows the other man has an extensive phased plan prepared, tailored for the improvement of his relationships with each of his children. That plan is currently scrolling by on the screen, but it isn’t what he wants right now.

No, he is asking for the man’s unscripted advice, words directly from a version of himself who never faced the same impossible choices Batman has, has never been driven to such darkness and the loneliness he never wanted but clung to by necessity.

A version of himself who never had to cut out his own heart because if he didn’t he was going to bleed out from the sheer _agony_ of losing a child through his own failures.

Judging by the way the other Bruce regards him in silence for a moment, the man knows exactly what Batman is asking. _“Encourage_ your children. Tell them when they do a good job. Admit you’re _proud_ of them. I _know_ you are, I’m _you_ after all; just tell them, for God’s sake. You may not be able to change the past, but with some effort you can still change the future. Apologize for the worst of your mistakes, and then move forward to support your children now.”

“Some of the things I have done… some of what I have said in the heat of my anger, paranoia and mistrust. Those things are… unforgivable.”

“That’s no reason to refrain from apologizing, idiot; avoiding the issue is just going to make it worse.” The other Bruce snorts, shoulders tensing as his jaw works slowly. “It is more of a struggle than I anticipated, restraining myself from punching you again,” he admits after a moment, carefully relaxing his hand which clenched into a fist again at some point during their discussion.

Batman snorts as well, then musters a cheerless laugh. “Well, we _have_ always been readier to answer problems with our fists than our words.”

He drops his face into his hands. “I’ve been on this path for so long,” he groans. “Dedicated my life to the Mission, set _everything_ else to the side after Jason… I almost went mad then, you know. I came so close to the edge… if it hadn’t been for Tim… I don’t even _remember_ everything I did during that time.”

He swallows, then whispers, “If I let them in, if I really do this… who’s to say next time one of them is injured, _dies_ , I won’t lose control again? I can’t afford to love them, not when the potential consequences are so dire.”

He feels a steady weight on his back. The other Bruce’s gauntleted hand, just resting there in support. “You really think you have a _choice?”_ His voice gentles slightly. “You complete fool, you _already love them._ Just because you’ve done your utmost not to show it doesn’t mean you don’t feel it. All you’ve been doing all these years is denying them your affection and support, and pushing them away when they get too close, not protecting anyone. Least of all your children, or yourself.”

Batman blinks slowly, processing.

_Well, hell. He’s right._

He lifts his head, clears his throat. Feels remarkably foolish. Begins planning methods to apologize to each of his children and embark on the monumental task of trying to repair and rebuild relationships with them. Realizes…

“They’re going to think I’m being mind-controlled.” He winces slightly at the thought of the inevitable strip-search followed by thorough testing and interrogation which will most certainly ensue the moment his well-trained children begin to suspect he isn’t in his right mind.

The other Bruce smirks, chuckling fiendishly as though greatly pleased by the prospect of Batman’s upcoming humiliation and discomfort. He probably is.

“Yes, they will. Good luck with that.” The other Bruce pulls a thumb drive from Batman’s belt, saves the data from the Batcomputer onto it, and then returns it along with a slim phone.

Batman regards the phone carefully, raising an inquiring eyebrow. “Is this…?”

The other Bruce nods, an amused gleam stealing subtly into his eye. “Have you noticed the frequency of the boys pranking you has increased since your Tim came to visit and gave our Tim a multiversal phone? I suspect those two have been colluding.”

Memories of a strangely sticky Batmobile, a surprise slideshow teaching all of Gotham the risks of unsafe sexual intercourse, blindingly sparkling Batman uniforms bedazzled in _Superman’s colors_ , the Batcomputer narrating everything in the voice of Fran Drescher, the Bat signal being changed to the S shield for a solid _week,_ and a host of other recent pranks ranging from mildly annoying to downright horrifying come to mind. “It is a definite possibility,” Batman murmurs, lips twitching despite himself.

The other Bruce is smiling at him faintly, small but real. Forgiveness? At least the possibility thereof. “Well, two can play at that game. We can inform each other of their pranks so that once they’ve tried something in one universe, we will be prepared for it in both. And I can be available to help keep you from making more of an ass of yourself than you already have.”

Batman snorts. “Appreciated.”

Bruce rises, checking the time. “I need to get back home. It will be safer if you refrain from opening your return portal for at least an hour or so after mine closes. The fabric between our particular universes is still weak and I would strongly prefer not to destabilize this universe by opening the portals too close together. It would be poor gratitude for their help in allowing us to meet here.”

Batman nods, frowning as he slides the phone into his utility belt. “Are the local inhabitants likely to make an appearance?” He looks questioningly at his counterpart, hoping he will not have to meet and interact with anyone in his current mindset.

The other Bruce glances over Batman’s shoulder as a portal opens before him, and snorts. “There’s a distinct possibility.” He’s still chuckling under his breath as he disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Bruce, transported to alternate universe:** *Eyes other self suspiciously* “This better not be a sex thing!”  
>  **Other Bruce, overflowing with righteous wrath:** *Punches Bruce repeatedly* “You are an entire bag of dicks and you don't DESERVE children”  
>  **Bruce, bruised and resentful:** *Watches slideshow, cringes at abundant evidence of horrible parenting fails* “Fair”  
>  **Other Bruce, patting Bruce's back consolingly:** “Here’s instructions so you can closely imitate a caring human being”  
>  **Bruce, nodding acceptance:** *Takes instructions, looks around in confusion* “Wait where are the people who actually LIVE in this universe? …Are they anthropomorphic bats? I fucking HATE the anthropomorphic bat universe… and you KNOW that, don’t you. You FIEND.”  
>  **Other Bruce, smirking with wicked delight:** *chuckles ominously, disappears into portal*


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly, Bruce turns, still reeling from the revelations the other Bruce dropped on him, and _oh dear god._

He can only stare in mute horror at what must be this universe's version of his eldest. He blinks, unable to move or even _think_ as he takes in the full glory of _Dick Grayson as a Star Sapphire_.

Dick's arms are covered from shoulder to fingertip in skin-tight pale lavender, a provocatively tiny leotard with a deep v exposing his smoothly muscled, inexplicably _gleaming_ chest and abdomen all the way to the navel, paired with thigh-high lavender boots. Miniscule patches of pink material curve suggestively over his nipples in a mocking attempt at modesty. Bruce is immediately concerned for the integrity of the scrap of material straining valiantly to cover Dick’s groin, which looks as though it may lose the battle at any moment.

Dick is grinning at Bruce, blue eyes sparkling with delight and catching the light emanating from his glimmering _tiara._

Bruce twitches with the desire to wrap his cape protectively around the younger man and has to forcibly remind himself this isn't his universe, and that isn’t his son showing the world his… _assets_.

Star Sapphire Dick smiles brightly at Bruce, hovering slightly above the ground with his hands on his hips.

“Hey there! Since it looks like you two finished up with your business and Batman Two took off, why don’t you come upstairs? Alfreida made me promise to bring you up for some dinner before letting you leave. She says if you're anything like our B you'll probably throw yourself into a case the minute you get back home to compensate for lost time and put off dealing with the emotional fallout of having to talk about feelings." He rolls his eyes, smiling fondly. “And as we all know, Alfreida’s always right.”

Bruce's brain grinds to a halt at the word 'Alfreida'. _What._

He opens his mouth to speak but is sidetracked by a dark shape looming suspiciously in the shadows. Bruce tenses in anticipation of an attack, but the Star Sapphire squeals happily and launches himself through the air, trailing sparkles as he tackles the shadowy shape to the ground.

The two roll twice before settling with Dick comfortably straddling the other man, whom Bruce is stunned to recognize as _Jason._ A Jason wearing skin-tight black leather, with a long, lethal-looking whip, a pointed eared cowl, and dangerous-looking claws which are all too familiar. A pair of high-tech goggles dangles around his neck, further proclaiming his apparent affiliations. _Huh._

 _Well, the other Bruce_ did _warn me this is a very divergent universe._

Bruce watches bemusedly as Star Sapphire Dick smiles happily, whispering something inaudible as he leans down to kiss Cat-Jason, whose hands settle tenderly on Dick’s sparkly hips. As Bruce stares in growing horror, Jason’s hands slide slowly but inexorably _down_ , thumbs stroking gently over the swathe of bare skin exposed between the bottom of Dick’s leotard and the top of his ridiculous boots. He starts to trail his fingers along the hem of Dick’s leotard, caressing inward towards…

 _Oh my god._ No. _No, I refuse to watch this any longer._

Bruce clears his throat awkwardly, and both boys look over at him, flushed and having very clearly forgotten his presence. “So, I take it you two aren’t brothers in this universe?” _Please don’t let them be brothers in this universe…_

Jason laughs out loud, a deep, rolling peel of joyful amusement Bruce has never heard before, easily rising into a sitting position with Dick settling back onto his lap. “Fuck no, man, that’s sick. Dickie’s my boyfriend.”

Bruce frowns. “How…?”

Dick grins, pressing a happy kiss to Jason’s cheek. “The other Batman gave us a quick rundown on your universe, so we can give you the obvious differences. I guess in your universe Clark was on earth when I was going through my whole finding myself phase after you and I fought and you fired me from being Robin? Man, it would have been cool to be mentored by _Superman!”_

“So instead, you…. _Hal?”_

“Well, Hal and Carol, obviously. And with the amount of love and loss I was carrying at the time, is it any wonder I was suited to be a violet lantern? I fight with the _power of love!”_ He smiles happily, nuzzling Jason who grins and strokes Dick’s exposed, muscled abdomen with one gloved hand, claws carefully retracted. Bruce twitches in embarrassed discomfort but carefully refrains from reacting further to the sight.

“And Jason is Catboy because…?”

“Fuck you old man! I’m the motherfuckin’ _Red Fang,_ not fuckin’ _Catboy!”_ Jason scowls. Bruce smirks, suspecting based on Jason’s reaction that this is far from the first time he’s been called by that name. “And it’s ‘cause Selina found me jackin’ the tires off your damn Batmobile when I was a kid, and she was so tickled she brought me home and adopted me.”

Bruce huffs, trying to imagine the scenario. “Somehow I can’t see Selina taking in a _human_ stray.”

“Yeah, well, she already had some experience with that, considering she’d picked _me_ up a few years earlier.” Bruce’s head whips around at the soft voice coming from the shadows.

_“Tim?”_

The slight boy smiles, blue eyes dancing. He’s wearing something very similar to Jason, form-fitting and black and _far_ too revealing, although he seems to have a folding staff as well. “Mama Cat caught me stalking you and Dick, took one look at me, and unofficially adopted me. It turned official a few years later when my parents… well.” He shrugs, slinking forward slightly as another form materializes out of the shadows at his side.

It’s Batman. Only…

Bruce looks more closely, and inhales in shock as the new Batman slides back his cowl and reveals _Damian’s face._ “Hello, Beloved,” the young man murmurs in a smooth, deep voice, pressing a soft kiss to Tim’s temple as the smaller boy smiles and takes his hand. Damian turns toward Bruce. “Hello, Father.” He blinks. “This is strange, even in the annals of our usual experiences.” Tim laughs softly and squeezes his hand.

“So I’m retired here? Or…” Bruce feels oddly unmoored at the idea; so much of his identity has been tied up in the Bat, it feels strangely unsettling to imagine setting it aside for good. His death actually makes more sense as a reason for Damian to be in the suit than any form of retirement.

But Damian is shaking his head and smiling. Dick pipes up, “No, Dami’s just wearing the cowl while our B’s recovering from some cracked ribs and a busted leg. She wanted to go out anyway, but Alfreida threatened to tie her up if she tried.”

Bruce is blinking again, brain stalled. _What._

_They can’t be implying…_

Another voice calls from the stairs up to the Manor, so familiar and yet viscerally _wrong_. “I requested you bring our guest along half an hour ago, Master Dick.” _Alfreida_ looks and sounds disturbingly like Alfred. Bruce has a sneaking suspicion that if he stares at her long enough, he’ll be able to detect a faint mustache… he shivers in horror and quickly looks away.

Alfreida turns, raising a quelling eyebrow as she speaks to someone behind her. “Miss Bryce, I must insist you return upstairs. If you continue to aggravate your injuries they shall take twice as long to heal, and you must know I have no qualms about drugging you for your own benefit should I deem it necessary.”

Stunned, Bruce just stares. _My maternal grandmother’s maiden name was Bryce, before she married into the Kane family. I wonder…_

The dark-haired, blue-eyed woman who appears over Alfreida’s shoulder snorts softly, corners of her mouth twitching minutely. “I am fully aware of your capabilities, Alfreida, and have no intention of testing them. I simply plan to greet our guest.” She directs her incisive gaze toward Bruce, and the evaluative intelligence he encounters behind those too-familiar eyes is jarring.

He wonders how much she knows about why the other Bruce brought him here, what she sees when she looks at him. Her expression sharpens slightly as she lifts a challenging brow, and suddenly Bruce is positive she accessed the information temporarily stored on her Batcomputer and knows _everything._

 _Well, I certainly can’t blame her for that; it’s_ exactly _what I would do in her position. Still, I would have preferred avoiding any more self-flagellation today._

She turns away then, sweeping a look over all of them. “Well? Alfreida prepared an excellent repast. Let’s offer… _Bruce…_ the appropriate hospitality before we send him on his way.”

Dick lifts Jason in his arms and flies up to the top of the stairs, sparkles slowly winking out in their wake as Jason pretends to struggle in his grip, laughing, but actually holding on tightly and curling into his boyfriend’s arms, sneaking a kiss or two before they land.

Damian and Tim roll their eyes at the older boys’ antics and follow more sedately, gesturing politely for Bruce to precede them up the stairs while they trail after him quietly discussing a case they have apparently been working on together and flirting via heavily veiled innuendo and subtle touches.

Bruce blushes and looks away quickly, though not quickly enough to avoid the sight of Damian taking Tim’s jaw gently in his hand, and then carefully tilting the shorter boy’s head so he can lean in and kiss him quite _thoroughly_ at the head of the stairs before emerging into the Manor proper.

The entire experience is extremely disconcerting, especially considering the oppositional way in which Damian and Tim have always interacted in his native universe. Bruce’s mind balks at even _attempting_ to imagine the circumstances that might lead to this particular romantic relationship coming into being, and he consoles himself with the knowledge at least in _his_ universe he’ll never have to worry about those two being interested in each other romantically. He snorts at the improbability of the thought.

Still, he finds himself thinking about the many forms of love and family he’s seen today, both among the people in this universe and in the records and stories from Other Tim’s universe. He thinks about his own broken family, and wonders.

_One day, one small step at a time._

Bruce breathes in, and out, and then steps through the clock to join the others upstairs for lunch.

*

“Based on what you conveyed to me downstairs, in this universe Tim and Jason were raised and mentored by Selina, and Dick and Damian by Bat… woman?” He directs a questioning look toward his alternate, who returns a narrow-eyed stare from her seat at the head of the table.

“I’m Batman,” she says, a hint of a growl creeping into her measured tones as her brows lower ominously.

“Of course,” Bruce backpedals quickly. _I can see why she would have made that decision, considering she might have encountered even more pushback from the rogues, the police, and the public working as an openly female vigilante. And she’s certainly tall and… strapping… enough to pull it off convincingly, especially with those shoulders._

She is still glaring at Bruce, so he clears his throat and continues with his inquiry, always interested in the mechanics of how slight variations across the multiverse result in such vastly divergent outcomes. “You weren’t working together; in fact, you were most likely usually on opposite sides of any fight if this universe is anything like mine. So how exactly did you all end up in romantic relationships with each other?” Bruce tries not to stumble awkwardly over his words, and finds himself regretting the question almost immediately as he observes the dawning amusement on the faces of the boys.

Selina, seated between Bruce and Bryce, snorts a laugh as she meets Bryce’s eyes for a quick, heated exchange before turning her smoldering gaze to Bruce. “You just found out _Dick Grayson_ is a _Star Sapphire_ , and you really have to ask why everyone around him keeps mysteriously falling in love? More importantly, when have little birds _ever_ been good at staying away from big bad kitty cats? The kids just followed _our_ example.” She winks at Bryce, then laughs delightedly as Jason and Tim both smirk wickedly and Bryce and Damian share identical looks of poorly disguised amusement mingled with pained embarrassment.

Bruce frowns. _Do I look that constipated when I’m uncomfortable?_

Dick’s reaction is the most ominous, considering he’s grinning so widely Bruce is legitimately concerned he’s going to permanently damage his face. “Well, love is just so beautiful and inspiring, Man-Bryce!”

“Please stop calling me that.”

“Yeah, Man-B, Dickie just helped us see the love we had within all along or some shit.”

Dick turns luminous blue eyes toward Jason and gazes at him adoringly. “You have such a romantic turn of phrase, Jaybird.”

Jason grins. “You know it, Sweetcheeks.” He turns to Bruce, waggling his eyebrows outrageously, and alarm bells start ringing in Bruce’s mind. “Get it? ‘Cause Dickie here has the sweetest ass in the motherfuckin’ universe, _mmm,_ just makes me wanna take a big fuckin’ _bite_ —”

Tim slaps a hand over Jason’s mouth and continues calmly eating using the other hand while Jason continues extolling the many virtues of Dick’s physique, his evocative gestures and muffled mumbles leaving little to the imagination. Everyone else simply continues with their meal as Bruce blinks, stunned at the display.

Selina catches his eye, and grins. “B’s learned to pick her battles, with four horny boys living in this house. She only puts down her foot for the big ones now and lets little things like this slide.”

Damian snorts. “Yes, and that has nothing to do with how frequently one of us has unwittingly walked in upon the two of _you_ behaving inappropriately in a public space—”

“Damian,” Bryce says mildly, and he subsides, leaving Bruce to regard Jason who is _still attempting to talk behind Tim’s muffling hand._

Bruce finds himself intensely grateful for Tim’s intercession preventing him from having to hear any more details. He winces involuntarily as Jason reaches both hands out in front of his own face and gestures like he’s squeezing and spreading something. Bruce wonders in passing if J’onn would be willing to strip this memory from his mind when he gets home.

“Ugh, _Jason!”_ Tim glares at his brother, wiping his apparently-licked hand off on Jason’s shirt. Bruce refuses to think about the implications of Jason’s previous gesture coupled with a licking motion. _Refuses._ “Gross!”

“Trade seats with me, Beloved. You should be permitted to eat without distraction; after all, you are still recovering.”

Tim laughs, turning to face his boyfriend. “Really, Dami? I twisted my _ankle,_ that’s hardly the worst injury to befall any of us on patrol.”

“Please. For me.” The speaking look on Damian’s face as he regards Tim floors Bruce with its unfamiliarity, so tender and open. He wonders if his son will ever be able to look like that, share such intimacy with anyone, and hopes he hasn’t further crippled his Damian’s ability to trust and love with his inattention and emotional distance.

Smiling, Tim switches seats, then resumes eating to Damian’s apparent pleasure. Dick coos softly, drawing Bruce’s attention back to where this version of his eldest sits at the foot of the table, gazing at the younger pair with an expression bordering on rapture.

“Jason’s right, you know,” Dick says, and Bruce raises his brows inquiringly. “The love was already _there…_ I could sense it so easily, the minute I came back from my Star Sapphire training. Bryce and Selina were both _so_ in love with each other, and it practically drove me insane that they felt like that and yet let fear and doubt hold them back from ever saying anything.” He shakes his head. “They were the real challenge. Not like me and Jay,” Dick laughs, laying his hand over Jason’s on the table.

“You callin’ me easy, Sweets?”

Dick grins. “Only for me, Jay. No, I mean, _we_ were flirting and falling in love from the second you showed up on the streets in that tight little suit swinging after Catwoman, and I had to rescue you when you _slipped off a skyscraper_ because you were so distracted staring at me.”

Jason huffs, blushing. “Was only starin’ at you because you were flyin’ around at night wearin’ nothin’ but a fuckin’ sparkly _bikini_ , Dickface.” Dick presses a loving kiss to his cheek, and Jason’s lips curve into an unwilling smile.

“Yeah, yeah, anyway, we both embraced how we felt from the beginning. Not like Selina and Bryce making a mess of things until I helped them out, or Tim and Damian and their adorable but slightly frightening pigtail pulling—”

 _“Pigtail pulling-_ he jumped out of _nowhere_ and _stabbed me_ with his _katana!”_

“Have I not apologized sufficiently for that unwarranted and much-regretted act, Beloved? I wish more than I can say that I had not encountered Stray during my first, disastrous patrol of Gotham. I am more deeply sorry for those actions than I can ever convey, and grateful beyond words your training and speed spared you from suffering anything more dangerous than a flesh wound at my impetuous hand. I assure you, once I properly understood Batman’s creed and then grew to know and care for you, I never once aimed to bring harm to you, merely to capture you and win you to my side.”

“Yeah, capture you and then have his wicked fuckin’ way with you, Kitten,” Jason guffaws and Tim lunges around a blushing Damian to elbow Jason in the gut. _“Ooof!”_

Bruce snorts, amused despite himself at their antics. “So Dick essentially badgered you into declaring your love for each other? I suppose I can imagine that.”

Bryce tilts her head, considering. “I am not certain I would call it _badgering._ Actually, he took a rather nuanced approach… for Dick. As I understand it, while in his Star Sapphire form he can sense love and whether it is requited, unrequited, or fulfilled. How he goes about playing Cupid seems to depend on the identity and nature of his target.”

Bruce’s brow furrows as he tries to wrap his mind around this interpretation of the power of a Star Sapphire. He has never heard it described in quite this way; of course, he usually focuses on the capabilities of the violet light constructs they can wield in battle, not other aspects of the powers granted to them by their rings.

“For example?” He looks at Dick inquiringly, always interested in learning more about the powers he may eventually fight beside or face in the field.

Dick raises his brows. “Well, I usually try to reach people using something they can easily relate to. Like, I made up some awesome riddles about love for Riddler, and did a bunch of coin-flip similes for Two Face to help encourage him to take a chance on love.”

Bruce’s eyes widen and he recoils slightly. “Please tell me those are two unrelated examples and not a _couple_ you brought together and then set loose upon the world.”

Dick rolls his eyes, chuckling. “Well I’m not gonna _lie_ to you, Man-B.”

Bryce clears her throat, fighting back a smile at Bruce’s obvious horror. “Actually, they’ve exercised a somewhat stabilizing influence on each other. Both sides of Harvey seem to care about Edward, who as a result is able to curtail most of his darker half’s excesses. And the effort of dealing with Harvey’s disparate personalities has acted to satisfy Edward’s pathological need for an intellectual challenge, rendering him relatively harmless.”

“Dress it up all you want, B, I still say they’re just too busy fuckin’ like bunnies to turn to crime.” Jason grins.

Tim blanches. _“Gross.”_ Damian pats his hand comfortingly, though he appears slightly sickened himself.

“Thank you for sharing your opinion, Jason,” Bryce sighs, looking mildly pained. Selina smirks, winking approvingly at her son.

Bruce blinks, shaking his head as though to chase away any lurid thoughts of rogues teaming up for amorous purposes. He swallows. “I see our universes are even more divergent than I initially believed. But… I still find myself curious how you approached Batman and Catwoman.” He winces. “Although I’m beginning to suspect I may not want to know.”

“Oh, relax, it isn’t that bad. Well, Selina was actually easy to help, really. I mean, her motto is ‘live fast, love hard, die young, and leave a good-smelling corpse.’ I barely had to do anything, she was ready to take the next step after the first cat-related pun. B was the one who was really afraid to let herself be in love, so I had to approach her on her own level, with something she would understand.”

Bryce is face palming. “Must we, Dick?” She says in a voice of long-suffering embarrassment, obviously already resigned to the foregone conclusion nothing’s going to stop this train wreck prior to its fiery and inevitable conclusion.

Dick smiles brightly, continuing as though she hadn’t spoken. “I told her love isn’t some dangerous, debilitating vulnerability that would compromise her ability to be strong enough to fulfill her goals. I mean, that’s what she was really afraid of, when it came down to it.”

That sounds… surprisingly reasonable, and very similar to the advice the other Bruce gave him earlier. Bruce frowns, wondering why Bryce apparently found this so embarrassing…

“Love's like a batarang,” Dick continues with a bright grin.

 _Oh. There it is. I really shouldn’t encourage him, but…_ “Painful, potentially dangerous, and best kept at a distance?”

Dick snorts, shaking his head at Bruce fondly. “Wow, that’s the _exact_ same thing B said when I had this talk with her. But just think about it, Man-B, and it really makes sense. You have to take care of your batarang, put time and effort into maintaining it. Treat it properly. Keep it close, and it will be there when you need it. If you throw it away carelessly or leave it behind, you’ll regret it, but if you do right by it, you’ll be rewarded.”

“Dick, I think I see what you’re trying to do here but I have to tell you, you're _really_ stretching that simile.”

“Grayson, in this analogy, is requited love analogous to embedding a bat-shaped shuriken in the flesh of a rogue? Is Selina the criminal in whom Mother is violently embedding her love?”

“…Sounds painful.”

“Love hurts, Kitten.”

“Hush everyone, I know how B's mind works and this is the kind of thing Batman understands.”

“…Seriously, Dickiebird?”

“Don't knock it, Jay, this is literally word for word the same speech I gave Bryce to encourage her to go for it with Selina. And it _worked._ ”

“I just went along with it because I wanted him to stop talking,” Bryce mutters into her hand, sounding pained. Bruce can sympathize with the sentiment.

Dick turns back to Bruce, ignoring Bryce’s interjection. “You can cut yourself on it if you aren't careful, or make someone else bleed.” Bruce winces. _Jason._ Against his will, the simile begins to sink into his mind. _Damn it, it’s starting to make sense._

Dick leans forward earnestly. “But that's no reason to get rid of it, because love can save you. It’s so powerful, it can even bring back the dead.”

“Now you're just exaggerating.” Bruce frowns. “Also, drifting badly from your simile, unless batarangs operate on _very_ different principles in your universe.”

“Okay, fine, the batarang thing isn’t perfect, but you get the idea.” Dick smiles encouragingly. “And once you get back to your home universe, you’re going to try to be more open to love, right?”

Bruce rubs his forehead, feeling an incipient headache developing. “You realize I'm not planning to woo anyone, right? Paternal love is a far cry from whatever category of romantic love you generally focus on encouraging.”

“Don’t worry, I tailored the talk with that in mind and left out all the bits about taking _care_ of your batarang, and making sure it’s _handled regularly_ and _thoroughly._ Ooh, and the part about always _wearing a glove to work your batarang,_ because it’s better to be on the safe side; accidents are how people happen.”

“I have cause to resent that statement, Grayson.”

“I didn’t mean _you,_ Little D! Bryce has said more than once that while she and Tal couldn’t make it work as a couple because he’s loyal to Rasha and won’t go against his mother’s edicts, B’s never regretted _you.”_

Tim leans comfortingly into Damian, who smiles quietly at the show of support as Dick hurries to reassure his little brother, unaware of having thrown Bruce into a state of shock again as he attempts to wrap his mind around a universe where Ra’s al Ghul is female.

He’s still just staring into space when Dick turns back to him. “Anyway, familial or romantic or platonic or _whatever_ , love’s still like a batarang, Man-B. Just go with it. _Embrace_ the batarang.”

Jason mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “I’ll embrace _your_ batarang,” and snickers.

Dick grins, and Jason tugs him onto his lap and wraps his arms around him in a tight hug, muttering something in his ear too softly for Bruce to hear even if he wanted to, which he adamantly does _not_.

Tim and Damian start whispering quietly back and forth about something Bruce is very sure he is better off not knowing based on the mischievous glints in their eyes, and Selina and Bryce appear to have slipped away at some point during the conversation to somewhere more sane, or at least more private.

Bruce sighs, wondering how soon he can open the portal and get back to his universe. It may have its problems, and a long road ahead to repair his relationships with his children, but he’s beginning to see it has its charms.

At least none of his children are _dating_ each other there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Star Sapphire Dick, killin’ it in his glittery costume:** “’Sup”  
>  **Bruce, confused and partially blinded by the sparkles:** “Wait, what?”  
>  **Cat-Jason, making out with Star Sapphire Dick:** “Damn Babe that costume always makes me wanna just spread you out and—” *Wet, smacking noises ensue, accompanied by lewd moans*  
>  **Bruce, horrified:** “Oh god! STOP!”  
>  **Stray Tim, being surreptitiously felt up by Damian:** *Eyes Bruce narrowly* “He seems uncomfortable for some inexplicable reason”  
>  **Damian, feeling Tim up:** “Perhaps in his universe humans reproduce asexually, like amoebas? We must instruct him!” *Proceeds to thoroughly demonstrate human sexuality with Tim*  
>  **Bruce, clawing vigorously at eyes:** *Desperately attempts to open escape portal* “I would literally rather die right now in a violent multiversal collapse than stay here and watch this for another second”  
>  **Woman-Alfred, looking exactly like regular Alfred with boobs:** “Sirs, if you would come upstairs for lunch—” *Whips around and karate-chops Woman-Bruce across the throat* “What did I say about resting, Miss!”  
>  **Woman-Bruce, gagging and clutching at throat:** “Stop DOING that, I won’t actually heal faster if you just keep injuring me MORE”  
>  **Selina, giggling seductively:** *Takes Woman-Bruce’s hand, leads her toward bedroom* “Oh I bet I can find SOME way to keep her in bed” *Winks lasciviously, gropes Woman-Bruce*  
>  **Everyone except Bruce, gagging:** “Eeeew”  
>  **Bruce, long since passed out on the floor due to shock and horror:** “…”


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce logs off the Batcomputer, having completed hours of intensive analysis of the information provided to him by the other Bruce, amidst painful introspection culminating in a crystallization of his resolution to correct his errors and begin to make amends. He stands in the Cave, _his_ Cave, wondering how to even _begin_ making up for years of poor parenting decisions. It seems a monumental task, but it is one he cannot allow himself to fail.

Frowning, he pulls the multiversal phone out of his belt and glances at the message on the screen, then lifts a sardonic brow as he replies.

 **_Batman:_ ** _Do not overthink this. Just follow the Plan._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _When have we ever refrained from overthinking something._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _…Really. ‘Buttman’? Must you be so childish._

 **_Batman:_ ** _In the interest of full disclosure, I locked the names on these phones. They’re permanent. Enjoy._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _This is beneath our dignity._

 **_Batman:_ ** _No. This is good. It will remind you not to be such an asshole. Also, it amuses me._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _You are smirking at me right now and I resent that._

 **_Batman:_ ** _And you are glaring impotently at your phone. This is going to be more entertaining than I anticipated._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _For you._

 **_Batman:_ ** _You’re welcome._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _I didn’t thank you._

 **_Batman:_ ** _I’m a detective. I can read between the lines._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Read between these lines._

 **_Batman:_ ** _Now who is behaving childishly. Did you actually just elevate your first three fingers at the phone while telling me to read between the lines._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Maybe._

 **_Batman:_ ** _You haven’t gotten over the ‘Buttman’ thing yet, have you._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _I will never get over the ‘Buttman’ thing._

 **_Batman:_ ** _Good. Now focus. Talk to your children today, and be supportive about something they care about, NOT related to the Mission. Show them your desire to be involved in their lives._

_**Batman:** There’s a list of suggested casual meeting locations and each of their food preferences in the Plan._

_**Buttman:** I saw. _

_**Batman:** Tell each one you love them._

**_Buttman:_ ** _I can’t. It’s too humiliating._

_**Batman:** Did you enjoy Dick as a Star Sapphire? There are other universes. I can do worse._

**_Buttman:_ ** _What. You’re bluffing._

_**Batman:** Next up is the universe where Dick, Jason, and Tim are involved in a polyamorous relationship with Roy Harper. _

_**Buttman:** … _

_**Batman:** They were all adopted by Queen and their callsigns are Violet, Blue, Orange, and Red Arrow. They call themselves the ‘Rainbow Quiver.’_

_**Buttman:** What about Damian, did Queen get his claws into him too._

_**Batman:** No, Damian is still at the Manor. But he’s twins. _

_**Buttman:** Damn you. I’ll tell them I love them._

**_Batman:_ ** _Godspeed, Buttman._

_**Buttman:** I hate you._

*

Tim shivers in the crisp pre-dawn air as he weaves his way through the sea of students, most still in pajamas while they stagger zombie-like to their Monday morning classes. He blinks heavy eyelids and feels the insufficient caffeine boost of his morning cup starting to fade as he narrowly avoids getting knocked down by a rogue bicycle.

For the umpteenth time, he curses the scheduling nightmare that resulted in his Introduction to Data Mining course, which he could probably _teach_ at this point in his vigilante career, only being offered _this_ semester, and only at 8 am. And of _course_ it’s a prerequisite for five other classes he needs in order to compete concurrent Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in computer science within four years. Of _course_ it is.

His business MBA never gives him this much trouble. _Never._ Although that’s probably because the university allowed him to substitute work experience for most of the required undergrad and some of the graduate coursework, so he barely has to do anything to finish the degree. At least his time as the successful CEO of a global corporation was good for something besides stock prices, shareholders and Bruce’s desire to have nothing to do with his own company.

And his afternoon class is going to be a headache, too. Computer Game Design seemed like it would be so much fun, but the final project is due in less than a week and the team he was assigned to work with completely flaked, leaving him to design and code everything on his own in his not-so-copious free time.

_Hate. I am filled with spite and hate, and if anyone else gets between me and my next cup of coffee right now I cannot answer for what I will do._

It certainly adds fuel to his slowly growing theory that Gotham University is secretly run by demons who feed on the pain and suffering of students. Nothing less could explain the shitty parking situation, or the state of the cafeteria, both of which seem almost _intentionally_ bad. Finally, _finally,_ a whiff of that beloved, rich, heady scent fills his nostrils, electrifying and energizing him.

_Coffee…_

Mindlessly, Tim turns and follows his nose only to stop abruptly as he realizes he is not, in fact, at the Campus Grind, and the body in front of him isn’t one of the sullen, tired student baristas who all recognize him and have his order ready when he gets there.

 _Bruce_ is standing in front of him, having apparently lured him into a small little-used courtyard tucked away behind the main engineering building, and he’s holding out a huge cup with a heavenly scent wafting forth as apparently very effective Tim-bait.

_What the fuck._

Instantly, Tim wakes up, scanning the older man and taking in every facet of his appearance, each minor detail catalogued and filed in case it should become important at a later time.

Bruce has never set foot on the Gotham University campus since Tim started attending; even the annual Wayne Scholarship awards are handled by the Martha Wayne Foundation without Bruce’s personal involvement. There’s no obvious reason for him to have broken from his usual habits, especially not just to _bring Tim coffee,_ at ass o’clock in the morning no less.

Bruce looks horribly out of place in his designer business leisure suit, the cost of which would likely be enough to cover tuition for a year. He’s got his public face on, but Tim knows him well enough to see the lines of exhaustion and worry he’s trying to hide.

Something must be horribly wrong, for Bruce to bother to come here in person to meet with Tim. He tenses, already bracing for bad news.

Half-formed possibilities and solutions tumble through Tim’s mind as he searches his memory and Bruce’s current appearance for clues as to what might have compromised the Bats’ security so thoroughly only a face-to-face meeting could suffice.

“What is it,” he whispers, throat dry, thoughts of infiltration and sabotage filling his head before another horrible possibility intrudes at the pained look on Bruce’s face and his supremely uncomfortable stance. Bruce hesitates, face stoically blank, but Tim is able to pick up the telltale tightness at the corners of his mouth and eyes that speak of a long, sleepless night, and the kind of brutal self-recriminations he only remembers Bruce making when one of them… _oh no._

 _He’s got something to tell me, and he_ really _doesn’t want to. Oh god… someone’s been hurt. Badly. Maybe even… NO._

“Just tell me,” Tim rasps, mind spinning out more nightmare scenarios by the second.

 _I just saw Jay this morning so he’s got to be okay,_ god _he_ has _to be okay… but maybe it’s Dick, or Alfred, or Damian… Cass? Oh god…_

Clumsily, Bruce gathers Tim into an awkward hug, the coffee pressed unheeded against his back, and Tim’s eyes fill with hot, painful tears. _No no no…_

“Who,” he whispers, voice hoarse and broken.

Bruce draws back, frowning. “What?” He studies Tim’s face, brows drawn together in focus, then jerks his head in sharp negation, frown growing. “No, Tim. I didn’t intend to alarm you. No one’s hurt and nothing’s seriously wrong. I just came to bring you this, and see how you’re doing.”

He twitches faintly before swallowing and continuing with a stiltedness to his words as though he’s reading from cue cards written in another language, and a look on his face like he’s disarming a bomb. “I recently realized we don’t spend enough time together, and I want to rectify that. Son. I love you.”

He shoves the coffee forward awkwardly, sloshing a small amount out of the cup. Tim regards the man before him carefully from behind a mask of polite interest, giving no sign of the internal depth charge the man’s words have just set off.

Tim takes the coffee mechanically and pretends to sip from it as the man who looks like Bruce asks him painstaking questions about his coursework and plans for the day. He manages not to react outwardly when the imposter repeatedly missteps, showing unaccustomed interest in Tim’s class schedule, homework, and social life, and completely failing to bring up any substantial case-related reason for the interaction.

“Well, it sounds as though you’ve been working hard,” Not-Bruce says eventually, when the coffee is beginning to cool in Tim’s hand and he’s definitely late to his thrice-damned class. Not-Bruce clears his throat, shifting stiffly in a manner that raises Tim’s suspicions even more. “You could take a break, you know, with the evening work.”

Tim’s heart skips a beat and he barely manages not to show a reaction. _Fuck, this isn’t just a Bruce Wayne thing. This guy knows about Batman. And he’s trying to get me out of the way, in the most ham-handed fashion possible._ “Oh?”

Not-Bruce nods, hand jerking out to pat Tim clumsily on the shoulder. “You need to take care of yourself. We can handle it if you need a break once in a while. You know your health and happiness is more important to me than anything.” And he gives Tim a painfully tight smile, looking supremely uncomfortable, before spinning on his heel abruptly and striding rapidly away, carriage erect and tight.

 _Well shit. How the hell did Bruce allow himself to be replaced or compromised by an absolute_ idiot? _This guy can’t even manage a ten minute conversation without giving himself away left and right. Obviously he wants me to back off the night work so he can push his plans through unhindered. I’ll have to watch the others before bringing them in on this, to make sure Not-Bruce hasn’t already gotten to any of them._

_Strategically Damian’s the most likely to have been compromised already, considering he still lives with Bruce and patrols with Batman so he’d have had the greatest exposure to the threat as well as being the most likely after Alfred to pick up on an imposter. Dick’s the next most likely, considering he works more closely with B than Jay and I most of the time. I think I’d realize if anyone had gotten to Jason, but just to be on the safe side I’ll make sure we both go through the verification tests tonight before making any plans._

_Damn it._ He eyes the large, delicious-smelling coffee in his hand wistfully for a moment, then pours it out into a planter, saving only a small sample for later analysis.

Tim’s got his phone out as he hurries to class, typing away as he sets up surveillance on Not-Bruce and the rest of the Bats, programs alerts for further suspicious behaviors, and begins to build his contingencies to deal with the clusterfuck this situation promises to become.

_I hate Mondays._

*

Dick scrubs a hand through his hair, yawning widely and smacking his lips as he meanders out of his bedroom. He feels pleasantly sore from some excellent aerial acrobatics and satisfyingly rousing fights over on the East side last night, followed by a sound sleep undisturbed by nightmares. Now he’s looking forward with excited anticipation to as many bowls of Crocky Crunch as his hungry body can handle.

He heads into the kitchen, stretching his arms out over his head and then swinging them loosely as he strides forward, enjoying the feeling of his body waking up. Maybe today he’ll head over to- _“Oh my god!”_ Dick leaps into the air, landing in a defensive stance only to find himself clutching a lamp in one hand and a days-old takeout carton in the other, menacing a startled-looking Bruce who is inexplicably sitting at the breakfast bar, a bowl of Crocky Crunch before him.

“Dick,” Bruce says carefully. “I know I surprised you, but please don’t throw that… I think it’s growing.” He eyes the carton distrustfully, which, now that Dick’s thinking about it, may actually be more on the order of _weeks_ old. Bruce continues to watch judgmentally as Dick carefully, shamefacedly sets the offending carton of potentially sentient mold back down on the counter, taking the opportunity to put the lamp back as well.

“Uh, don’t worry about it.” Dick clears his throat. “So, to what do I owe the early morning visit? Got a case you could use another pair of hands or set of eyes on?” Bruce just stares at him, and as the silence stretches into awkward territory Dick rolls his eyes, sitting down at the breakfast bar a couple stools down from Bruce.

Bruce clears his throat, sliding the bowl of cereal over to Dick who immediately sets in on it like a starving wolf. He’s almost done by the time Bruce manages to form words again. “It’s almost noon.” He shakes his head as though dismissing Dick’s questionable habits as unimportant. “There’s no case, Dick. I just wanted to check in on you.”

Immediately, red flags fly up in Dick’s mind and he tenses. The last thing he needs right now is Bruce deciding to try to micromanage Dick’s cases or life again. _Damn it, I thought we were finally_ over _the stupid controlling crap, B. What was I thinking, of_ course _that’s an impossible goal._

“Oh?” Dick’s tone is decidedly frostier than before as he pours himself a second bowl. “I think I’m doing just fine, thanks.”

Bruce looks troubled, jaw tightening before speaking again. “I’m sure you are, but I am interested in how you are doing anyway, because I care about you.”

Dick’s brows fly up in surprise as he stares at Bruce. _What the what?_

Painstakingly, Bruce continues slogging onwards. “I am aware I have not been there for you in the past, and I want to change that. You deserve better from me. I love you, and I need to show you that your importance to me doesn’t begin and end at the Mission.”

Dick blinks at him, spoon frozen halfway to his mouth, before slowly, carefully setting it down in his bowl. “I… see.”

_Shit. Shit shit shit shit._

He surreptitiously reaches under the countertop and presses the panic button which will send an alert out to Oracle, who will review the footage in his apartment and pass the warning along to any Bats she can be sure are uncompromised. At this point, Dick can’t be certain about anything except that Damian and Alfred are at the greatest risk. This person may have had unfettered access to them for days, able to introduce _anything_ into their food or drink at will or take them out and replace them with impersonators or send them back out mind-controlled.

Tim and Jason are probably okay, considering they live apart from the Manor and a shapeshifter or someone with mind control powers would likely have to interact with them in person in order to compromise them-

His gaze falls on the empty cereal bowl in front of him. _Able to introduce anything into food or drink…_

_Shit._

“Is something wrong?” The shapeshifter is looking at him carefully, wearing Bruce’s incisive stare.

Dick swallows down his nausea. “Just remembered something I have to do later today. No worries!” He puts on a bright grin that feels like it hurts his cheeks.

The shapeshifter nods, obviously not fully convinced but apparently willing to let it go. “We have a lot to discuss at some point, Dick. For now, I just need you to know I will always be there for you, no matter what.” And he leans across the empty stool between them, pulling Dick into an unexpected hug.

Dick allows it, telling himself it’s so as not to raise the intruder’s suspicions, and trying _hard_ not to think about how it’s been _so long_ since the real Bruce wanted to hug him.

It feels warm and safe and good and _absolutely genuine,_ and as Dick bites back the sting of tears and his growing fears about the safety of his family, the one thought pounding through his head is _I wish this were real._

*

Damian is sketching at the easel in his room, taking advantage of the early afternoon sunlight pouring through the windows, when a knock sounds at his door. Expecting Pennyworth, he calls out permission to enter and is stunned when _Father_ is the one who steps into the room, incongruously carrying a tray containing carefully arranged portions of hummus and pita, with a delicious-looking side salad of finely chopped tabbouleh.

The aromas cause Damian’s mouth to water involuntarily, but he suppresses his interest in the repast. Father must have some reason for coming to speak with him, which is most certainly of greater importance than satisfying the base requirements of Damian’s physical conveyance.

_Patrol was as usual yesterday, I have done nothing recently to earn Father’s censure at school… for what reason has he come to berate me in my room? It must be serious to bring him here rather than simply summon me to his study or confront me in the Cave as usual._

Damian waits, noting Father’s stiff stance and tense expression. Usually Father does not hesitate to voice his opinion regarding Damian’s faults. He frowns. Perhaps this is not a visit to remonstrate with him. But if not that… “Is Pennyworth well, Father?”

Father’s lips twitch faintly. “Of course, Damian.” He regards Damian in silence for an extended moment, seemingly at a loss, before speaking again. “I simply realized I hadn’t spoken with you in a while, so I decided to bring in your meal myself.”

Brows rising in surprise, Damian tilts his head inquiringly. “We spoke last night, while on patrol.”

“I meant out of the capes.” Father glances over Damian’s shoulder and his gaze catches on the easel. “What are you drawing?”

Flushing with embarrassment at his oversight, Damian wishes he’d thought to cover the image prior to allowing anyone entrance to his room. “It is of no importance,” he mutters, hoping Father will let it go. No such luck; Father steps over and studies the picture gravely while Damian writhes internally, awaiting the scorn or worse, pity, which surely awaits him momentarily.

“This is remarkable.” Father speaks softly, finally looking up from the sketch and right at Damian, an odd expression on his face as though he is seeing Damian for the first time. Damian tenses. “Is this…” Father pauses, clearly struggling to find the right words. “…The way you wish things were?”

Damian attempts to maintain eye contact with Father, but finds the incisive steely stare too much. Instead he looks over at the sketch he was working on, humiliated again by the sheer _weakness_ it betrays. In it, Father stands with a hand on Damian’s shoulder, Grayson to Father’s right and Todd and Cain to his left, Drake in front of Todd at Damian’s side. Pennyworth stands slightly behind Grayson with Titus seated at his feet, Damian’s hand curled on the dog’s head.

It is foolish beyond permission. Grandfather and Mother would have Damian beaten for the sentiments inherent in this drawing, for including Father’s riffraff and the help in what is obviously meant to be a family portrait. And _Father…_

Won’t understand. How can he, when Damian himself still doesn’t fully comprehend the morass of conflicting emotions within him at the thought of any of his so-called _family,_ ranging from resentment to duty to what he cautiously recognizes as protectiveness and refuses to call affection, let alone _love_. It displays a depth of vulnerability unbefitting one who claims himself the heir to the Batman.

“I’m sorry,” Damian whispers, hating this. He quickly turns to a fresh page on the easel, knowing even as he does so it is far too little, too late to hide anything from the World’s Greatest Detective.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Damian,” Father says, looking unaccountably sad, perhaps regretting the weakness Damian has shown in his now-exposed desire for family.

Damian swallows. If he is to be Batman one day, take over his inheritance from his father, he must learn to set aside such failings, just as Bruce himself has done. He needs to be strong and self-sufficient enough to put the Mission above all. “It means nothing, Father. Do not be concerned. I shall be able to focus on patrol, and on the Mission; I will not allow myself to become a hindrance.”

Father looks at him, puzzled. “I’m not worried, Damian. I am proud of you, and glad you feel you are part of the family. _You_ are important to me, not your usefulness to the Mission. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise. I love you, son.” He hesitates. “If you need more time to work on your hobbies, or your school work, just let me know and I can handle patrol alone.”

Damian catches himself before he inhales sharply at his Fath—at the _charlatan’s_ words. The man’s actions added to his extremely uncharacteristic statements over the past few minutes can lead to no other conclusion than _this is not Father._

His stomach curdles and he is instantly grateful he has consumed _nothing_ of what this- this _fraud_ has offered to him. He cringes internally as he allows the pseudo-Father to gather him gently in his arms, planning how to keep an eye on this imposter and protect Pennyworth, and Titus and the other animals, until such time as he is able to get a message unobserved out to Grayson.

There is a chance this is actually still Father’s body, in which case Damian’s immediate desire to impale it with his katanas, non-lethally of course, is untenable.

Grayson will be able to help. The switch must have occurred quite recently, as there was no sign of imposture up until now and the difference is so notable Damian would not have missed the signs. There will be time to rescue Father and prevent whatever cataclysm is upon them now from ever coming to fruition.

The fraud leaves, and Damian shoves the entire tray into the trash. He will have to test all of his food prior to consuming it, and make sure to do the same for Pennyworth from now until the matter is resolved. Certainly they will accept _nothing_ from the hand of the imposter.

 _I shall figure out your plot, you mountebank, and give you cause to regret ever daring to raise your hand against my_ family _._

*

Red Hood lands heavily on the rooftop, grunting with the impact and running a hand over his bruised ribs.

 _Fuckers paid for that,_ he thinks viciously, grimly satisfied at the unconscious, groaning state in which he left the asshole dealers who thought peddling their shit to fuckin’ _kids_ was a great idea.

“You should ice that,” a gravelly voice says from _right fuckin’ behind him,_ prompting Hood to jerk around, pulling his punch as he sees who it is and then kinda wishing he’d just gone through with it and punched the bastard in the fuckin’ face anyway.

“Don’t fuckin’ _do_ that creepy bullshit, old man. One of these days I’m gonna fuckin’ put a bullet in you by mistake.”

Batman glares at him, clearly biting back the tired old lecture about guns and just as clearly aware the second he opens his mouth to spew censure Red Hood’s gonna take off. “Here,” he finally says instead, thrusting something into Red Hood’s face.

Red Hood jerks back, then stares mistrustfully at whatever Batman shoved at him. And stares some more, once he realizes what it is. “…A chilidog?” He says softly, still looking at it, stomach betraying him with a loud grumble as the tantalizing aroma reaches him somehow. _Time to change the filters in the helmet again…_

Batman just holds it out, and Red Hood releases his helmet and slides it off, running a gloved hand through his hair before reaching out to gingerly take the offering. “I used to get these for you on patrol, over at that place just outside of Robinson Park. Remember?”

Red Hood nods, suddenly unable to speak as he’s pummeled by memories from another life, when he was just a stupid little brat who thought he could fly, believed being Robin gave him magic. “What’s this for,” he finally says gruffly, scrabbling to regain his composure.

“I miss you, son,” Batman says, and Red Hood twitches as though struck. Batman’s shoulders are tense as he continues. “I’ve never managed to tell you how sorry I am, for how profoundly and repeatedly I have failed you. I couldn’t keep you safe as a child, or accept and support you as an adult, and I’ve _hurt_ you unforgivably, countless times.”

Red Hood just stares at the other man, frozen with the forgotten chilidog clutched in his hand. _What the fuck,_ he thinks savagely, _does this asshole think he’s_ doing. _Does he really think he can just pull this shit—_

“What do you _want,”_ he growls. “I use fuckin’ rubber bullets, I haven’t killed anyone in _years,_ what the _fuck_ more do you _want_ from me.” He backs away and lowers his head, shaking it like an agitated bull. “You fuckin’ _know_ better than to bring this shit up, we ain’t ever gonna see eye to eye.”

Batman clenches his fists, grimacing. “I just want to make amends if I can. We’ve let this fester far too long.” His gaze drops, and he whispers, _“I’ve_ let this go too long. I love you, son, I’ve _always_ loved you. So much, that in a crucial moment I shook and _my hand slipped_ and I _hurt you,_ wounded you gravely in a way I never meant, when you were most in need of my help.”

And _fuck,_ that… can only mean one thing. Red Hood’s hand is shaking as he brings it up to his neck unconsciously, and Batman’s gaze follows it, pain visible in every line of his stance.

 _Oh fuck,_ Red Hood thinks. _Fuck this shit._

The idea that Batman never meant to really hurt Red Hood back then, didn’t _mean_ to slice his son’s throat open with a batarang in favor of the fuckin’ psycho killer who beat and murdered him, is probably one of the most tantalizing and cruel fantasies someone could think to offer Hood.

There is nothing Batman could say to him that would be crafted to be more appealing to him, except maybe, “Hey Jay, I suddenly approve of your using guns and I fuckin’ Batarized this one just for you, now it has endless ammunition, summons a colony of angry bats to surround your enemies when you press this button, and turns into a motorcycle when you toggle this doohicky. Also I know you’re dating Timmy and I’m totally cool with it. Oh, and here’s the fuckin’ Joker’s head as a goddamn wedding gift. Mazel fuckin’ tov.”

And that’s how he _knows_ this is a lie. Batman’s a brooding, paranoid, stubborn asshole and the day he admits he fucked up in any way with regard to the Red Hood is the day the Red Hood _knows_ there is someone else under the fuckin’ cowl, wearing B like a goddamn angsty whiteboy meat-suit.

He’s dodging the attempted hug and off the roof and tearing away through the city before he realizes he’s moving. The chilidog ends up in a storm drain because he doesn’t want to throw it in a dumpster and risk some poor street kid getting exposed to whatever the fuck the asshole pretending to be B wanted to use on Hood.

 _Damn, what a waste. Fuckin’ asshole makin’ me_ throw away _a_ chilidog _…_

Bruce has been compromised or replaced. _Fuck._ Swallowing heavily, Jason reaches for his comm and opens the secure private line. “Red?”

Red Robin’s sleepy voice answers, sharpening to alertness as he speaks. “Go ahead, Hood.”

“It’s B. Someone fuckin’ got to him.”

After a short silence, Red answers. “I know. Come in, we’ll figure this out together.”

*

Bruce finishes his call with Cass and logs off the Batcomputer, lips still faintly curled as he thinks about how easily his daughter can read him, how quickly she realized he wants her to come back once she wraps up what she’s working on.

She understood him at a glance, and smiled like the sunrise when she figured out his newfound commitment to his family. Her capacity for forgiveness humbles him; even now, after he has pushed her away so long, all it took was a _look_ to call her home.

It will take her at least a month to finish what she’s working on, but he knows the others will be glad to finally have Cass home. Maybe, just _maybe,_ he’ll have helped build a more cohesive family in time to welcome her back. And once she’s returned, then perhaps he can begin to make some kind of peace with Stephanie, whom he failed just as badly as any of his children and is far more likely to slap him in the face than listen to any attempts to make amends. Cass is her friend and may be able to act as a bridge for him to at least apologize to Stephanie for his poor treatment of her over the years.

Bruce tilts his head, considering his eventful day and allowing himself to remember small details he’d noted for later recollection. The dark shadows under Tim’s eyes, which prompted Bruce’s suggestion the boy take it easy and skip patrol for a while. The way Dick sighed and relaxed when he was held, and with it the heavy knowledge of how much needed physical affection Bruce has denied the boy over the years.

The _look_ in Damian’s eyes when Bruce saw the beautiful picture he had created, as though he thought Bruce would tear it to shreds before his eyes, and the sheer profound surprise and _relief_ when Bruce complimented it. Jason’s bluster, and under it the wounded boy who has been left hurting far too long.

There’s still so much to fix, to mend. But his children didn’t reject him, didn’t push him away, and that’s a start. Smiling faintly, he picks up his multiversal phone and thumbs in a message, knowing the other Bruce will want an update and preferring to deliver it via text rather than waiting to be dragged back to another alternate universe for an in-person discussion.

He has no desire to experience the vivid hellscape Other Bruce threatened to subject him to next if the man even suspects Bruce of shirking his parental duties. The last thing he needs is more disturbing imagery to haunt his dreams.

 _I do not need to see any of my boys compromising each other while wearing_ Arrow costumes, _or the kind of mischief Damian would get up to if there were_ two _of him…_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _That was exhausting._

 **_Batman:_ ** _Unsurprising. Report._

 **_Buttman_ ** _: …_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _I think… it went well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Bruce, blundering and awkward as hell:** “I love you boys” *Extends food-bribes cautiously, attempts to initiate group hug*  
>  **Tim, loudly and obviously:** “Mmm yummy!” *Ducks away from hug and dumps coffee in nearest bush, plans thousand ways to destroy imposter-Bruce* “Guys we got a problem”  
>  **Dick, concerned but continuing to allow hug:** “Yep. Gonna get right on that. Just… another minute.” *Continues hugging imposter-Bruce and eating suspect cereal while everyone else stares at him judgingly*  
>  **Damian, poorly hiding concern:** “Grayson you utter nincompoop, control yourself! I would expect such idiocy from DRAKE, not YOU!” * Drags a protesting Dick away from imposter-Bruce cuddles, attempts to induce vomiting for his own good*  
>  **Jason, eying discarded chilidog in trash, whispering:** “You fucking BASTARD, how could you do this to me. I'll never fuckin' forgive your ass for makin' me waste a CHILIDOG” *Glares at Bruce threateningly, tears in eyes*  
>  **Bruce, painfully oblivious:** “Well this went great! Good talk boys, seeya same time tomorrow” *Wanders off, whistling*  
>  **Batboys, whispering together ominously:** *Plot Bruce's doom*  
>  **Other Bruce:** *Steeples fingers beneath chin, supervillain-style* “Muahaha yeeessssss…”


	5. Chapter 5

Red Robin edges farther out on the ledge, listening with a rising sense of astonishment to the drama playing out below. His bo hangs forgotten in his hands while his mouth drops open in stunned disbelief as the Maroni family representatives and the suppliers they’re meeting with for the illegal exchange _lose their collective shit_ and the carefully planned operation goes completely to hell.

“You getting this, Jayhawk?” Red keeps his voice down, but really he probably doesn’t need to bother.

The confused mass of henchmen down below are too busy shouting, fighting amongst themselves, or _making out with each other_ to notice anything else. No one’s even paying attention to the crates of drugs as Red drops down silently behind a stacked pallet and pries one open to collect a sample of the merchandise, a fine white powder. He’s even more meticulous than usual, wearing his re-breather just in case to avoid accidental exposure should whatever is causing this mass hysteria happen to be airborne.

 _Whatever the hell this stuff is, if_ this _is its effect, we do_ not _want it getting loose in Gotham._

“Yeah, an’ I don’t fuckin’ like it. Got eyes on Umberto?”

“Negative. He should be here right now trying to get control of his henchmen, but he’s gone. I’m going to check the rest of the warehouse—”

“Red Robin, Jayhawk, stand down, repeat, stand _down._ Bring back any samples you have already collected, and we will determine what we’re up against rather than charge in half-cocked. Understood?”

Red Robin frowns, but acknowledges the order. There’s a new factor in the mix, and until they’ve identified the source of this disturbance it would be a _bad_ idea to go after the crime lords. If the Maronis are working with someone who can create a drug powerful enough to send a quarter of these henchmen into a mating frenzy and the rest into some kind of hyper-aggressive state, the Bats definitely need more information and an airtight plan before going up against them.

 _This really sucks, though. I hate leaving a job half-done._ Red listens for Jayhawk’s acknowledgement, but doesn’t hear it. Heart rate accelerating, he swings over to where Jay was staking out the other side of the warehouse, and frowns at the empty rooftop. Tensing, he whispers, “Jayhawk?”

Silence, during which Red Robin’s heart tries to pound out of his chest as his mind races through scenario after scenario in which Jay went after a crime boss on his own, or was captured, or…

“Hey Prettyboy.” Jay’s voice sounds off, like he’s breathing a little hard. “Sorry. Was just takin’ a minute, had to deal with something.”

“No problem. I was just…” _Scared,_ Red doesn’t say. They both know the risks out here. Doesn’t mean he has to like it when Jay’s the one in danger, though.

“Sorry. Meet you back at the Nest in ten.” The sounds on the other end of the comm _definitely_ sound like Jay’s fighting someone right now. “Hey, uh, how many pints you think you need for a blood sample to analyze, Red?” Jayhawk sounds breathless but triumphant, and there’s a soft groan in the background accompanied by a heavy thud.

 _What the fuck._ Red Robin blanches. _“Pints?!_ Jay, we only need a few vials! Tell me you were joking.”

Silence stretches over the comms and Red winces before Jay eventually answers sheepishly. “Well, now we got plenty to spare for the analysis I guess.”

“Oh my god.” Red experiences a strange emotion that seems to be a mixture of abject horror and appalled fondness. It feels appropriate to the situation so he just rolls with it.

An unknown, gruff voice chimes in over the comms, making Red jump slightly in surprise, “Doncha worry none ‘bout me, li’l buddy, jus’ gonna sleep dis off…” A loud, percussive snore resonates through the ensuing silence, and Red thinks he can actually hear the sound of Batman facepalming. But that might just be him projecting.

“…Did one of the henchmen just call me ‘little buddy.’” This is not happening right now. Red Robin strikes fear in the hearts of the wicked, not the sort of rough affection that comes with cute nicknames and forgiveness for _moderate blood loss_.

_Damn it._

Jay huffs a laugh. “Not my fault you’re both short and adorable, Red. Also, I think word’s gettin’ around on the street ‘bout you sendin’ interested thugs through rehabilitation and career training programs instead of turnin’ ‘em in to the cops.”

_Oh wait that makes sense. Maybe I helped this guy’s nephew get into trade school or something._

Red shrugs philosophically. “A lot of these guys never had a chance, and once they have the tools and training they can do so much better. Turns out just punching crime in the face doesn’t actually go far to solve the problem in the long run. Recidivism has gone down more than fifteen percent since I implemented the voluntary anonymous rehab and reeducation programs for Gotham’s career henchmen—” Red begins defensively.

Batman’s voice cuts in before Red Robin has a chance to really get going on his rant. “Chatter. Return to base. Send me the results of your analysis.”

Red acknowledges, then makes his way out of the chaotic mess in the warehouse, freezing at the door to the office through which he entered earlier.

The room is no longer empty.

Swallowing, he retreats silently and swiftly, then uses a backup exit, all while desperately trying to cleanse his brain of the image of _Umberto Maroni,_ locked in an enthusiastic intimate embrace with one of his bodyguards. _Gross. That was_ way _more of that guy than I ever wanted to see. Although now I’m super curious about what the hell that desk is made out of, considering it’s defying the laws of physics that it hasn’t shattered into dust beneath all that weight and movement. Oh god brain stop_ thinking _about this._

 _What the fuck,_ Red thinks in horror, _is going_ on _here?_

As Red Robin grapples back toward home base, relieved beyond words that Jayhawk’s fine, he can’t help but notice there are a _lot_ more couples walking Gotham’s streets than usual.

It’s weird.

And in Gotham, _weird_ rarely means anything good.

*

Batman stares at the test results on the screen of the Batcomputer, but unfortunately, nothing changes. No new connections or patterns jump out at him from the puzzling array of data.

All over Gotham, people have been pairing off in the most unexpected ways, including rogues and thugs and civilians alike, some pairings crossing gang lines, class boundaries, and even sides of the law. Violent reactions are up as well, although that issue is not nearly as prevalent, leading Batman to wonder if the violence is a sporadic or unintended side-effect to whatever agent is causing the spontaneous amorous plague.

More concerning is the fact that the tests Batman, Red Robin, and Oracle have been running to identify the chemical or spell affecting the populace have all been coming up blank. The samples Red collected from the failed drug exchange were a bust, testing positive for simple heroin cut with thirty percent sucrose and ten percent starch.

Batman rubs the bridge of his nose, wondering how he came to a point in his life where finding heroin cut with common household supplies isn’t immediately the most concerning item on his agenda. _At least it isn’t rat poison this time._

But there’s nothing in the drugs to explain the unusual effects observed in that warehouse or on the streets of Gotham, so he needs to move on.

The Batcomputer screens are filled with test results analyzing the Gotham water supply, drug distribution patterns and sources, and movements of the rogues known to work with chemicals, including Scarecrow and Poison Ivy. There’s nothing conclusive, not even a thread to grasp.

And now Tim and Jason are insisting on behaving in a completely ridiculous manner.

_There is no way I will allow my children to go up against these criminals alone. Not with so many unknowns._

And Tim is arguing, demonstrating his disastrous penchant for obtaining his way using irritatingly convincing logic. “B, it _has_ to be me and Jay. We don’t know what kind of method these guys are using to make people spontaneously fall in love, but we _do_ know that whatever it is, it isn’t affecting anyone who is already in a happy relationship.”

Batman frowns down at Tim quellingly. “We have no evidence _yet_ that those in stable, satisfying romantic relationships are being affected by the toxin, spell, or other agent in question; that is no guarantee that they are immune, or that the villain won’t up the ante and _begin_ targeting those people at any moment. We cannot be certain you will not be at risk.”

_Just stop pushing on this, boys. Please._

Tim clears his throat, flushing slightly and dropping his gaze. “Um, even allowing for that possibility, Jay and I are still the safest pair to handle this case. I mean, we’re already a couple, so even if we’re affected, chances are it’ll just make us, well…” He blushes again. “And while it might be a little awkward for us to suddenly be affected and get really affectionate and, um, _handsy,_ with each other on patrol, the consequences if it happened to any of the rest of you range from _supremely_ awkward to potentially devastating.”

“Yeah, B, _you_ wanna try to explain to Janet why you’re suddenly makin’ out with little Timmy on patrol—”

Batman slaps a hand over Jason’s mouth, staring at him in horror at the nightmarish thought as Tim chokes and Timmy, quietly entering data into the Batcomputer, spins to face them with an expression of horrified disgust and shock. The fifteen year-old looks ready to flee, and Batman glares at Jason for bringing the younger boy into this discussion.

“Point taken,” Batman growls.

Jason chuckles. “Or I guess maybe you might be explainin’ to _Babs_ why you and _Dick_ decided to try out how flexible he _really_ is—”

This time it’s Tim’s hand over Jason’s mouth as Batman freezes in dismay at the idea.

He can’t even imagine the aftermath of succumbing to the effects of this insidious contaminant with any of his children. His horror at the very thought is so visceral he has to suppress his gag reflex for a moment.

Tim looks carefully from Batman back to Jason. “Enough, Jay, you’re traumatizing the kids.” He tilts his head toward Timmy, who is now avoiding looking directly at Batman while blushing profusely. Damian is standing in front of Timmy, fists clenched, glaring at Batman as though prepared to defend Timmy’s honor with his life.

Batman sighs. The boys are right, unfortunately. They can’t risk sending Batman out with any of his partners while the effects of whatever is out on the streets right now are so unpredictable and extreme. Flying solo presents a separate plethora of risks; once compromised in the field, an unpredictable drugged Batman might imprint disastrously on a civilian, or a criminal, or even return to the Cave to wreak untold devastation on his loved ones while acting under the influence of this aphrodisiac.

It is far too great a risk.

The only other field-ready couple on their team is a pair of high schoolers even less fit to face the threat than the boys, who are at least both old enough to vote and experienced vigilantes. Batman doesn’t want to risk Tim and Jason, but he _can’t_ send Timmy and Steph out there; both are far too young, still under the guidance of their mentors and nowhere near ready to face a threat of this level on their own.

Which leaves him out of options, much to his dismay.

“You will maintain constant communication with Oracle,” he begins, and both boys grin as they recognize his capitulation.

“We’ll figure this out, B,” Tim pats Batman consolingly on the shoulder as the older man pushes back his cowl and Bruce gives his headstrong boys a faint, rueful smile before brushing past Damian and nudging Timmy out of the seat so he can resume his analysis of the existing data.

They absolutely _will_ solve this case, and before _any_ of his children are hurt. Bruce will make certain of it.

*

Damian stares at the images on his father’s cell phone, willing them to transform into something innocuous and less likely to result in the total upheaval of his entire life.

Of course the images remain static, making a mockery of his faith in the stability of his family and his own place therein. Almost, Damian regrets obtaining the device earlier while Father was distracted and cracking the password as a casual test of his pickpocketing and hacking skills.

_Would it not have been better for me to remain in ignorance, until such time as the veil was forcefully lifted from my eyes? …At least then, I might have enjoyed my last contented days with my family. As it is, I shall be filled with dread._

A single rebellious tear rolls down Damian’s cheek and he inhales a deep, shuddering breath, scrubbing at his stinging eyes.

 _I am a warrior; crying is_ beneath _me,_ he thinks furiously, but as though conspiring against him the tears continue to gather and fall, dotting the surface of the phone and obscuring the faces in the picture on the screen.

He blinks, and though it wavers the image still refuses to go away.

There before him is Father, with his arm around a treacherous _woman,_ her arm tucked behind his waist and matching smiles on their faces. It is Father’s expression which truly gives Damian grounds for concern; this isn’t Brucie, with his press-ready fatuous grin. It’s _Father,_ wearing the smile Damian has never seen on his face except directed toward _family._

_This harpy is going to take Father away from us all._

Damian’s mind flies through everything he knows about stepmothers, and he trembles inwardly at the thought of his existence here, the wonderful unexpected _family_ he has grown to treasure and love, who consider him worthy of their affections and time, being threatened, destroyed by some interloping _harlot._

 _She will most likely beat me regularly, force me to perform menial chores around the Manor, and have me set aside in favor of her own children. And if Mother attempts to have her killed to protect my birthright, Father will be angry and hurt, because he_ cares _for the trollop._

His bottom lip quivers, and he sets his jaw fiercely to still it while attempting to reason through the problem.

 _Pennyworth will never allow her to force me to participate in the Manor chores; he guards his position far too jealously for that. And_ _I can endure all manner of beatings, though I have fallen out of the habit in recent years. But what if she offers harm to_ Timothy? _He is unaccustomed to such harsh treatment._

Damian’s brow furrows as he considers that appalling possibility.

_Timothy is trained, of course, but emotionally far more vulnerable than I. He will have to go live with Drake and Todd full time instead of merely on weekends, to be safe from her machinations, and then I shall no longer be able to see him. Drake and Todd will also be rendered unhappy by this arrangement because they will no longer be able to constantly fornicate on every surface in their home once they have a child living with them and must adhere to decency requirements._

_The stepmother will cast Grayson and Todd out if they attempt to return home for visits, because they are mere foundlings. Perhaps she shall attempt to poison Father after their marriage in order to inherit his fortune, and then do away with me altogether once she has what she wants._

Damian blinks back his tears, anger kindling within him at the thought of someone overturning his entire life and family for nothing more than petty _greed._

_I shall not allow it._

He evaluates his position carefully, and slowly smiles. The others are benched for safety considerations while Father, Red Robin and Jayhawk work their current case.

That simply means he has allies, with plenty of time on their hands to assist his noble cause of rescuing Father from the vicious she-beast who has sunk her claws into him all unbeknownst his loyal protectors.

Decided, Damian ventures forth in search of said allies, still sniffling occasionally but with a new determination kindling hope in his tear-stained little face.

*

Steph eyes the picture skeptically. “I don't know, her arms are pretty beefy for a civilian. She’s built like an Amazon, go Bruce.” Her eyebrows rise slowly. “Um, wow. Now that I'm really looking, doesn't she seem awfully familiar? Like, _disturbingly_ familiar?”

Timmy sucks in his breath as he spots it too. “Oh my god, you're right.” He shudders, appalled. _What the actual fuck, B, isn’t it bad enough you keep_ adopting _people who look like you? Now you’re_ dating _them too? Wow, narcissist much?_

“Ew.” Steph can’t seem to look away from the picture, despite how much she obviously wants to do so. Timmy gently covers the screen with his hand, breaking the spell, and Steph leans into him gratefully, shuddering. He rubs her back comfortingly, pressing a soft kiss to her sunshine-scented hair.

“What is it?” Damian looks from one to the other impatiently, and Timmy winces as he regards his innocent, prickly little brother. _How to phrase this in the least traumatizing way possible?_

“Um, Dami, it's just this lady looks a _lot_ like, well, _Bruce_ , and it's kind of squicking us out a little,” he says gently.

“Not just a little. _So much_ squick! _”_ Steph contributes with an exaggerated shiver.

Timmy laughs softly. “Okay, yeah, it’s squicking us out a _lot.”_

Damian rolls his eyes. “The harlot’s physical appearance is of no consequence; it is her _substance_ we must evaluate! Is she worthy of our family? Or a greedy leech thinking only to attach herself to the nearest wealthy man! Come, Timothy, you must conduct the background search while Brown and I begin to devise the suitor’s challenges of valor. Brown will most likely provide excellent input, having already experienced the challenges from the suitor’s perspective while competing for _your_ hand.”

Steph snorts, glowering darkly for a moment at the memory of _that_ little encounter before shaking it off with a bright smile. “Okay, I’m down for that, but no sewers this time, kid.” She ruffles Damian’s hair and he squirms away, glaring warningly until she relents.

 _God Steph’s so good with my crazy family. I’m so lucky to have her. Wait, Dami wants to do_ what _to this poor woman just because she’s maybe dating B?_

“Dami…” Timmy must look concerned, because Damian hurries to reassure him.

“Fear not, Timothy; we shall design the challenges using a sliding scale so the difficulty level may be easily adapted depending on the wanton’s skill level. Simply let us know once you have determined the floozy’s identity, and whether she has any training to speak of or must be treated as a mere civilian.”

Steph grins. “Sounds fair enough, Baby Bat, let's go! Seeya later, Boyfriend!” And they’re off, the ominous sounds of their giggling and conniving disappearing behind a closed door before Timmy has time to do more than sigh tolerantly.

_Oh well. At least they’re having fun and getting along._

He narrows his eyes at the image on Bruce’s phone, which he managed to palm during the discussion. _Now, to figure out just_ who _this is, and_ why _exactly Bruce thinks he has to hide her from us…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Other Tim, watching in horror as thugs get it on:** “Um do I HAVE to bust these guys right now?” *Winces, tries desperately to look away but sees more henchmen-orgy everywhere he turns* “Oh god why me”  
>  **Jayhawk, collecting absurdly large blood sample from surprisingly cooperative thug:** “Naw Prettyboy I got this” *Pats passed-out thug on head, tucks flyer for Red Robin’s rehab program into guy’s pocket*  
>  **Batman, trying desperately to shield his innocent children from dangerous orgy-drugs:** “I’m going out, you boys stay here”  
>  **Jayhawk, being a little shit:** “Yo B you ain’t immune to sex pollen y’know” *Jerks head toward Timmy and Dick* “You wanna roll those dice, fucker?”  
>  **Batman, horrified and appalled at idea of macking on any of his kids:** *Vomits, folds* “Fine you guys can investigate but I’m going to spy on you CONSTANTLY for your own good”  
>  **Other Tim, rolling his eyes so hard they nearly fall out of his head:** “Dude you do that anyway”  
>  *  
>  **Damian, jumping to conclusions after finding pic of B with a chick, and going full Grimm fairytale in his head:** “I shall never be happy again!” *Weeps, goes to find brother for help*  
>  **Timmy, concerned and gentle:** “Dami what’s the matter?” *Steals picture of B with woman, begins to build mental contingencies while questioning B’s weirdly narcissistic taste*  
>  **Steph, bubbly and vicious:** *Takes Damian by the hand to go plan horrific test of worthiness for unknown woman* “Let’s wreck her shit”  
>  **Damian, pleased:** "This is why I tolerate you, woman! Come, let us destroy the strumpet together!"


	6. Chapter 6

**_Batman:_ ** _Progress?_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Second bonding activity successfully implemented. Continued suspicion and resistance from targets as anticipated, levels not concerning as of yet._

 **_Batman:_ ** _You don’t sound as though you are talking about taking your children out to lunch._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _I find this task more approachable if I treat it like a mission._

 **_Batman:_ ** _I know._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _It may be necessary to slow the Plan down for a time. Damian inexplicably slept on the floor outside Alfred’s door last night, which is… concerning. Dick has either developed allergies or he is fighting tears every time we interact. And Jason spent our entire lunch with a hand on his Kris._

 **_Batman:_ ** _The boys are unaccustomed to your paternal behavior. They will be more accepting as they get used to it. Better not to slow down enactment of the Plan, or the mixed signals will further confuse them._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _I suspect Tim is plotting against me._

 **_Batman:_ ** _That is normal for him._

 **_Batman:_ ** _You are getting to know your children. It is natural for the process to be somewhat uncomfortable for everyone involved._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Are you sure._

 **_Batman:_ ** _Positive. Do not pause or slow down execution of the Plan._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _…_

 **_Batman:_ ** _You know, there is an alternate universe where all the boys are married and live in the Manor with you and their spouses as an extended crime-fighting team._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _…_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _That doesn’t sound too bad what’s the catch._

 **_Batman:_ ** _Well Dick’s husband is Deathstroke, Jason’s with Talia, Tim’s married to Ra’s, and Damian is with Lexie Luthor._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _WHAT. No._

 **_Batman:_ ** _If you choose to put the Plan on hiatus, that will give you more free time to spend in that universe when I send you there._

_**Buttman:** …_

**_Batman:_ ** _I forgot to mention you are also involved with Talia._

 **_Batman:_ ** _And Jason._

_**Batman:** It’s complicated._

**_Buttman:_ ** _…_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Fine I’ll stick to the Plan you’ve made your point you monster don’t you dare send me there that’s worse than death_

 **_Batman:_ ** _I’m glad you have chosen to be reasonable. Carry on._

*

“The imposter appears to be receiving instruction through some manner of device which resembles a common cellular phone,” Damian hisses into the comm, staring balefully at the fraud from the safety of his hidden position, crouched atop a stalagmite which is conveniently shrouded in darkness.

“Can you get it away from him safely without him noticing?” Grayson’s answering whisper is warm but strained, his worry and anxiety over the entire situation evident.

Damian narrows his eyes as he considers, then regretfully shakes his head. “We should not risk it. Whomever this imposter is, despite their missteps they appear to have access to most if not all of Father’s skills and memories. If he caught me in the act I could not answer for the safety of Pennyworth and the animals.”

“Your safety is important too, Robin.” Grayson sounds unaccountably sad. “Okay, Oracle answered my distress signal and she’s not available to help directly but she thinks Red Hood and Red Robin are clean so I’m gonna loop them in. Maybe they can provide some kind of distraction tomorrow while you grab that phone, and then we can figure out who’s behind all this and stop them.”

And that is _not_ a warm rush of feeling at the reassurance that Drake and Todd are uncompromised and safe, it _isn’t_. “And until those blundering dunderheads come up with whatever half-baked plan they can manage utilizing the single brain cell they share between them, I am to what? _Wait?”_

“No, _watch._ You’re our man on the inside, Robin, and I’m relying on you to keep an eye on the target and look out for the civilians.”

Damian huffs an exasperated-sounding sigh to mask his pleasure at being someone upon whom Grayson feels he may rely. “If I must,” he growls, and signs off. Below, the Father-imposter continues his mysterious and uncharacteristic activities, which at the moment appear to comprise reading _Pride and Prejudice_ while some inane movie plays in the background on the Batcomputer.

Damian watches the questionable special effects of said movie for a time, observing the sullen-looking actress who is currently ridiculously clad in impractical metallic underwear and reclining in chains before some manner of gigantic slug-beast. He eventually looks away, unable to determine what possible motivation the charlatan could have for subjecting himself to this drivel.

Perhaps… if Father is trapped in his own body, the majority of his actions controlled by another, some of his atypical behavior may be intended to alert those around him to his predicament. The possibility exists that such tiny clues are all he is able to provide under the duress of the mind control.

 _Are you still in there, Father?_ Damian frowns, resolving to do whatever may be necessary to correct this situation.

Irritably, he brushes some fresh guano from his shoulder as he settles in to watch, and wait.

*

“What’s it mean when you do that, Baby?” Red Hood’s deep rumble startles Red Robin and he twitches back guiltily. As he does so, he realizes he had been absentmindedly stroking a thumb along Hood’s ear, exposed because the other vigilante pulled off the helmet when he sat down a few minutes ago for a quick rooftop snack.

“Sorry, wasn’t paying attention.” Red drops his hand and presses an apologetic kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek, then settles back comfortably into his position draped over Hood’s broad shoulders, watching the building opposite for signs of the exchange. The action isn’t supposed to go down till midnight, hence Hood’s chilidog break, but nothing ever goes according to plan.

Hood frowns, catching Red Robin’s hand and twisting slightly to see his face. “No, I mean it. You do that a lot. What’re you thinkin’ about when you touch me like that, Baby Bird?”

Red Robin smirks playfully, then drops it as Hood continues to frown, clearly not in a flirting mood. He sighs, shrugging. “It’s nothing, really. I mean, it’s stupid.”

“It matters to you, whatever it is. That’s not stupid. Tell me?”

Red Robin pushes off his cowl so they’re facing each other in just their masks, and shrugs uncomfortably. “It’s just… you have these scars?”

“Oh yeah, my piercings. Had to let ‘em go for a case, never got around to getting them put back in.” Hood cocks his head. “What, you like ‘em?” He grins and waggles his eyebrows playfully.

Red tucks his chin, looking away. “Um, yeah, I do. A _lot._ It’s kinda dumb, but I always wished I… but it’s not something I could ever do, so I really should quit thinking about it…” Red’s hurried explanation trails off in embarrassment. _This is dumb._

“Wait, you wanna get pierced?” And _wow,_ Hood’s voice just dropped _an octave_ and his gaze is _intent._

Red Robin bites his lip. “Yeah. But I could never…”

“Why the fuck not?”

He frowns. Isn’t it obvious? “You know, with the CEO thing and my secret identity to maintain…”

“Fuck that shit. You ain’t the CEO anymore, and if you go back to that someday after you finish college those assholes will be fuckin’ _lucky_ to have you. Anyone who judges you for havin’ some metal’s a narrow-minded idiot and I’ll be happy to beat ‘em up for you.”

Red Robin laughs involuntarily. “Um, _thanks,_ Hood, but I think you walking into a board room to beat up some stodgy old WASPs would kinda be overkill. Anyway, that’s not really the sticking point… it’s B. Um, you know, the _real_ B, once we get him back or his mind straightened out or whatever.” He shakes his head, looking down. “Which will have to happen soon; this observation and information gathering phase isn’t giving us nearly as much data as I had anticipated. Besides whatever groundwork he’s trying to lay by getting closer to the team and hinting we should all take some time off, he doesn’t seem to be making any moves. It’s… concerning.”

He bites his lip. “Anyway, once he’s himself again he’d blow up if any of us got permanent identifying markers like tattoos or piercings, you _know_ he would.”

Hood drums his gloved fingers on his knee. “That’s bullshit. We’re all covered in fuckin’ identifyin’ markers, there’s scars and shit all over every one of us. We’re boned the second anyone connects the dots, a few tats or piercings ain’t gonna make it any worse.”

“That’s probably true, but try convincing B of that.” Red Robin sighs, then his eyes widen mistrustfully as he recognizes the excitement that jolts through Hood at his words. _Oh shit, what have I done. “Wait,_ I didn’t mean—”

Hood _grins._ “Convince B? Don’t mind if I do!”

Red Robin huffs a reluctant laugh. “Oh, I’m going to regret this conversation, aren’t I?”

Hood laughs, rubbing Red’s shoulder comfortingly. “Naw, Baby, we gotta come up with a distraction anyway to help Big Bird and the demon brat out with gettin’ the potential control device away from B, and that sounds like a real fuckin’ good chance to float this idea past the big guy. If it ain’t really him, it don’t matter anyway, and if it is, well then you’ll know exactly where he stands on the issue.”

 _This plan sucks… but it’ll definitely work as a distraction. Might as well go with it; if B gets mad about it later at least I have an excuse. Sort of. I mean, it’s either use this or reveal we’re_ dating; _gotta admit_ that _would be a hell of a distraction, but I don’t want to deal with the fallout once B’s back to normal._

Hood leans in, kissing him tenderly, and it’s so good Red doesn’t even mind the chilidog breath.

 _You can’t date Jason if you aren’t into chilidog breath. Love the man, love the dogs._ Red Robin giggles into the kiss, then spots movement out of the corner of his eye. He yanks down his cowl and quickly moves in on the weapons exchange that began while they were distracted.

Cursing and laughing softly, Hood yanks his helmet on and follows him down into the fray. “You won’t regret it, Baby! Just wait, you’ll be _pierced_ before you know it!”

Cheeks burning, Red Robin takes the next thug down with an unnecessarily vicious jab to the knees because the guy’s snickering knowingly at Hood’s banter. _Damn it, Jay! At least_ pretend _to act professionally while we’re on the job!_ He takes a moment to glare at Hood while binding the thug.

“Just kick ‘im to the couch, kid,” a nasal, reedy voice chimes in from a burly thug who is lying on the ground nursing bruised ribs and a dislocated wrist, startling both Hood and Red Robin.

“Huh?” Hood says intelligently, and the burly thug, who looks to have broken his nose a few times over the years, ignores him to continue to address Red Robin earnestly.

“You gotta let assholes like ‘im know who’s in charge. Hood’s a good guy, but he’s rough, y’know? My lady always kicks me to the couch when I piss ‘er off, and I learn my lesson real quick.” Turning to a momentarily speechless Hood, Burly Thug continues. “Red Robin’s a classy guy, y’know? Ya gotta treat ‘im with respect, or you’ll lose ‘im.” He shakes his head knowingly.

“Yeah, an’ we’d all hate ta see that. You guys’re a real cute couple.” Another voice, this one deep and rough, pipes up unexpectedly from inside the nearby dumpster where Hood threw another thug a few minutes earlier.

“What the _fuck,”_ Hood growls, honestly disturbed. “The hell are you guys so invested in our love lives?”

“Well, for one thing, we all got money in the pot on whether you guys work out,” Dumpster Guy answers.

Burly Thug shrugs, cooperatively holding his hands out for Red Robin to click on the cuffs. “Yeah, there’s that. But also, Mr. Hood, you may not have noticed this but you’re a helluva lot less violent since you been gettin’ some on the regular. Less bang-bang when you’re bangin’ your boy over there, y’know? It’s just good business to encourage it.” His scarred, ugly mug twists into a surprisingly sweet smile. “Besides, y’really are cute together.”

Hood snorts with laughter and calls the police as Red Robin blushes _hard._

_What is my life._

But Red’s smiling as he grapples away, Hood close behind, the hoots and well-wishes of the overly supportive thugs following them.

*

“This isn’t going to work,” Red Robin hisses into the comms as he pulls into the Cave on his Ducati, Hood close behind on his own bike.

“Well, it won’t fuckin’ hurt to try, and it does the old man good to rattle his fuckin’ cage every once in a while. Keeps him from spending all his time broodin’ about that goddamn stick up his ass. Or if he _is_ a robot or alien or whatever, we’ll fuck with his programming and maybe throw him so off balance he blabs his big plan. Save us some work.” Jason grins, wide and sharp, as he pulls off his helmet and heads to the lockers.

Tim sighs and follows, removing his cowl and gently lifting the mask beneath, holding his breath as he does so. Maybe Not-Bruce won’t even notice…

 _“Tim?_ What… what is _that?”_ Not-Bruce’s voice sounds utterly dumbfounded.

_Guess it was too much to hope for, even from a mind-controlled B. Your plans suck, Jason!_

“Um, what do you mean?” Tim stops walking though, and slowly turns around to meet his fate. Or in this case, a potentially irate and almost certainly mentally compromised Batman whose eyes are _definitely_ fixed on Tim’s right ear, where three shiny new studs adorn his helix and he has a couple of loops through his earlobe. Not-Batman’s eyes stutter back and forth from there to Tim’s other ear, which boasts more helix piercings, a conch ring, and the industrial.

Not-Batman shoves off the cowl, still staring at Tim with wide, horrified eyes. “That… _Tim,_ did you get your _ears pierced?”_

_Well, his reactions are coming across pretty damn natural right now… makes me lean more toward the mind-control or mental suggestion route, or even alien parasite in the brain, rather than complete replacement such as a shapeshifter, clone, or remote-controlled robot._

_At least I know it probably isn’t Hush, considering the hair sample I snagged during the hug came back with B’s DNA… which is actually super-disturbing if this turns out to be a robot. Like, how did they get so much of B’s_ actual hair? _Ugh, weird thought train, disembarking now._

“Um, yes?” It’s the truth, after all. _Some_ of the piercings are real.

Maybe Jay’s shitty plan will sort of work, and after B blows up about Tim having _ten_ very obvious piercings, he’ll be more forgiving when they reveal it’s actually only a very moderate three. Well, he might be okay with it for a while anyway. Until they manage to lift the mental control and he gets furious all over again.

 _At least the distraction plan’s working perfectly,_ Tim thinks as he watches Damian creep back away from his preoccupied not-father, tucking his prize into his pocket and scurrying off to presumably meet Dick to clone the data off the suspect phone.

They’ll send the data to the Clocktower so Babs can crack the encryption while with any luck the phone will make it back to the pouch in B’s belt before this conversation is over, so the imposter will be none the wiser and the Bats will be in possession of key data to foiling the villain’s plans and rescuing Bruce. Well, hopefully.

For all they know it’s actually an ordinary burner phone and Not-Bruce is just really into Sudoku or something.

 _At least Babs has time to help with this_ , _busy or not… I’m glad_ something’s _going right._

Not-Bruce swallows, apparently unable to look away from Tim’s new accessories. Tim twitches, uncomfortable under the prolonged attention. “Oh,” Not-Bruce says, looking like he’s biting back a lot of other words with difficulty. “That’s… good.” He awkwardly puts his hand on Tim’s shoulder and pats once. “It’s good that you did that.”

_Shit. Robot’s actually looking most likely at the moment…_

Tim blinks, then tilts his head to meet Jason’s gaze across the Cave as Not-Bruce begins painstakingly asking him about his day and inquiring whether the piercings were a spontaneous decision or something he has wanted for a while.

It’s disorienting, almost, to have someone with Bruce’s face looking at him with so much interest and attention, discussing something so mundane and just… _Tim._ It actually hurts to know this can’t be real, that Tim will never really rate highly enough on Bruce’s priority list to merit this kind of consideration.

Which is idiotic because of _course_ Tim will never be that important to Bruce. He fills a need, that’s all; he’s always known that. It’s never been an issue really; as long as he’s useful, that’s enough. It has to be.

Tim blinks sudden unexpected tears from his eyes and wonders if perhaps the villain responsible isn’t so inept as to screw up Bruce’s characterization by accident; maybe the bad guy knows the Bats well enough to realize he can emotionally compromise them all just by _making Bruce be nice to them._ In which case, the villain’s plan is working.

_Well damn._

Jay’s troubled expression reflects everything Tim feels right now. _I hate this bullshit._

Tim doesn’t know which of them is more grateful when Damian safely returns the phone to Not-Bruce’s belt, signaling it’s finally safe for them to end this farce and get the hell away from the painfully domestic scene. Tim needs to put some distance between himself and the imposter who’s wearing Bruce’s face and eyes, and the way he’s using them to look at Tim with too much affection and something that _hurts_ because it looks like _pride._

He isn’t sure, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen the real Bruce look at him quite like that before. Something twists in his chest like a knife and he breathes through it, pushes it down and locks it away so he can focus and keep moving to get the job done.

*

“I can’t believe B’s fuckin’ _mind controlled_ or _a goddamn shapeshifter_ and you’re sittin’ here doin’ your goddamn _homework.”_ Jason throws his hands up in the air, unable to understand his strange, fascinating, downright _ridiculous_ boyfriend. “I don’t get how your mind works, Baby Bird.”

Tim shrugs, continuing to focus on the screen as he plays through the computer game he’s crafting. He doesn’t seem to be aware that he’s whispering, “Stupid Computer Game Design final. Stupid shitty assigned partners and their stupid shitty lack of work ethic. Stupid shitty game physics glitches…”

His blue eyes narrow accusingly at the screen and he curses softly as the character he was playing, who Jason is pleased to note looks flatteringly like the Red Hood, _sinks to the waist into the motherfuckin’ floor like it’s fuckin’ quicksand_.

“Uh… was that supposed to happen, Baby?” Jason asks carefully, his brows slowly rising as the character, now half-embedded in the floor of what looks suspiciously like an abandoned warehouse he’s been to a few times in Chinatown, spasms and suddenly jerks himself into a nightmarish, twitching tangle of inhumanly distended, multi-jointed limbs that spasm and flail like the poor bastard’s in mortal agony. The gun the character was carrying drops to the floor, maybe because his hideously distorted fingers can no longer maintain a grip on it.

 _“Jesus fuck!”_ Jason yelps, flinching as the helmet on the screen _melts into the character’s head,_ revealing what Jason’s pretty sure is the face of unspeakable suffering. At least he figures the poor asshole’s gotta be suffering, with the way his eyeballs are kinda popping out of his face and his mouth is just a dark, pixelated hole gaping wide as though locked in an eternal, silent scream.

_Nightmares. Nightmares forever, Timmy._

“Damn it, I thought I fixed that,” Tim mutters tersely as his fingers fly across the keyboard.

On screen, one unspeakably distorted arm flops out across the warehouse floor toward the dropped gun, twisted fingers curled into the ground like the poor fucker knows he’s fuckin’ doomed and is trying to drag himself closer to death so he can put himself outta his goddamn misery.

 _Fuck, this shit is morbid. What the_ fuck, _Timmy?_

Jason eyes his slightly terrifying boyfriend carefully, gauging his reaction to the horror show unfolding on screen. “So just to confirm, that shit wasn’t supposed to happen, right Baby Bird?” He tries to keep the judgement out of his voice. If Baby Bird wants to express himself through pants-shittingly terrifying graphics and soulless abominations, then by fuck Jason’s gonna be a goddamn supportive boyfriend and encourage him in his nerdy darkness.

Just, he wants to know what he’s getting himself into here first.

Tim snorts, mouth twitching. “Really, Jay? Of course not, it’s just some physics glitches and malformed textures. I’ll get it to work right, don’t worry.”

“Not gonna leave all that Lovecraftian bullshit in there for some poor bastard to find? Pockets of undiscovered horror just waitin’ for the right moment to scare ‘em all shitless?”

Now that he’s thinking about it, Jason could kinda get into that. Set up the game to play normally for a while, lulling the player into a false sense of security, then _bam!_ Unfathomable horror, _motherfucker!_

Maybe Jason could set up some cameras and get some footage of Dickie playin’ it, that would be fuckin’ _hilarious._

But Tim doesn’t seem to be listening anymore; he’s muttering incomprehensible coding technobabble now as he navigates the increasingly terrifying twisted monster of a character through what looks to be a pretty damn good facsimile of the Gotham docks.

Something’s still fucked up with the game’s graphics, though, because some of the thugs seem to be _swimming through the air_ and is that a fuckin’ _shark_ that just swam by overhead?

_What the fuck. It’s like he’s coding this shit while drunk._

As Jason watches in horror, the character’s head begins spinning crazily around on its neck like something out of the goddamn Exorcist, mouth still a gaping black hole of infinite sorrow and corruption. And oh hey, now the dude’s eyes have collapsed into deep black pits of utmost despair as well. Fuckin’ great. _I wasn’t plannin’ to sleep tonight anyway… Oh fuck._

_Jesus. I just realized, I don’t think Tim’s slept between now and when we realized B was compromised. I shoulda been keepin’ a better eye on him, shoulda known somethin’ like this would happen._

“You need a break, Baby?” When Tim gets to the point where he’s not aware he’s thinking out loud, that usually means it’s time for Jason to help his boyfriend get some sleep. _By any means necessary._

Jason grins to himself, thinking about the various means he’s come up with over the years to pin Timmy down long enough to get him to sleep.

Tim blinks tired eyes rapidly, trying to focus. “It helps me think problems through if I step back from the issue and do something mindless like this for a while.”

Tim huffs a quiet little laugh. “Plus, this project’s due in a few days and I actually have to pass this class to stay on track to graduate in time. Life doesn’t grind to a halt just because we have Bat issues to deal with on the side. Anyway, there’s not much to be done on the B thing until Babs comes up with the details on the data from B’s phone; the level of encryption is out of this world apparently and it’s taking her longer than expected to crack it.”

Jason frowns. “Why aren’t you workin’ helping her with _that,_ then? Between the two of you brains it’d be done in no time.”

Tim sighs. “Babs nixed that idea. Says I’m too close to the problem to be at my best right now and she wants me out of her hair while she’s working.” He squirms. “Also she may have hacked my class schedule and she doesn’t want me to flunk out over this, so she told me to focus on my school things and trust her to come through on the B problem.”

“Makes sense. Hard to argue with Babs in a mood, anyway.”

Tim nods. “We’ve got Damian on watch at the Manor and Dick shadowing Not-B on patrol, and the guy hasn’t done anything more suspicious than try to take each of us out to a meal at one of our favorite restaurants to awkwardly talk about our childhoods. I’m not really seeing the clear and present danger at the moment, and like I said, I _do_ have to get this done for my class.”

 _Yeah right, like Baby Bird’s not already rockin’ a killer GPA, with companies lining up at his door just_ beggin’ _for him to come work for ‘em when he graduates. Fuck, he could probably turn that shit in right now and get an A, creepy motherfuckin’ nightmare glitches and possibly possessed characters and all, he’s just a goddamn perfectionist._

_Ugh, but I can see why he’d want a distraction from all this Bruce-related bullshit._

Jason regards his boyfriend fondly, then flops down on top of him, _gently,_ because he doesn’t want to crush his tiny boyfriend, but making sure he presses him into the couch in all the right ways. “This coding shit will be easier once you’ve slept on it, Baby. Right now I could probably think of a few _other_ things we could do to distract you,” he whispers, nosing at Tim’s throat and reveling in the way his boyfriend’s breath catches and his pretty pink mouth parts.

“Oh,” Tim whispers, and suddenly his attention is completely focused on Jason. “Um, yeah, that would work too.” He smiles slowly as the game controller slips from his hands, which immediately relocate to some very _interesting_ places on Jason’s body.

 _Oh, fuck yeah,_ Jason thinks as they start kissing and moving together. _We’ll deal with the mind control bullshit in the morning. And Timmy’s project will probably thank me for not letting him keep coding anymore while he’s this wiped out, that shit was_ terrifying as fuck. _Goddamn nightmare fuel, is what it is. Jesus fuck Baby Bird’s a scary little shit sometimes, I fuckin’ love the hell outta him. Fuck he feels so fuckin’_ good…

Then Tim’s hands find their way under Jason’s clothes, and they both stop thinking at all.

Jason’s almost dozing, blissfully relaxed in the afterglow and pleasantly sore in all the best ways, when Tim suddenly bolts upright, startling Jason who leaps into a protective stance between Tim and the window, Kris in one hand and—he looks at his other hand, then groans _—bottle of lube_ clutched in the other.

Tim snorts, choking on the laugh that bubbles up at the sight. “Jay, were you gonna defend my life with _lube?_ ”

Jason clears his throat, dropping the lube self-consciously on the couch and sliding the Kris back into its sheath. “I’d do whatever it takes to defend your life, Baby.” He raises an eyebrow and blushes faintly at Tim’s giggles. “So what the hell was that?” He frowns, waking up more and leaning close to his boyfriend. “You have a nightmare, Baby Bird?” They sleep better when they’re together, but it’s still not unheard of for one or the other of them to have to deal with nightmares.

_Not surprised if he had a bad dream, what with this fuckin’ B bullshit, plus that goddamn evil computer game from the depths of Satan’s hairy asscrack, just take your fuckin’ pick._

Tim shakes his head, smiling. “No, I just figured out a possible next step for the whole Bruce situation, something we can do while we’re waiting for Babs to come through on the phone data.”

Oh. Well, that’s probably better than nightmares about Not-Bruce and Satan’s hairy asscrack. “Yeah? What’re you thinkin’?”

“Double check our results. Something’s been bothering me since we left the Cave, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then while I was working on my coding project something pinged in my brain, and now I think I’ve figured out what was bugging me earlier about Not-Bruce.”

Tim takes a deep breath, then explains, “When we went to see him, B’s reactions were almost _natural_ at first; he was acting surprised and upset about my piercings, just like he would normally be. And then it was like he _glitched_ , kind of like what happened in my game, and suddenly he wasn’t himself at all; after that, he acted totally out of character, seeming to be fine with the piercings, and exhibiting atypical interest in our civilian lives.”

Jason frowns, remembering, and acknowledges that yes, the fraud’s reactions _were_ disturbingly similar to Tim’s scary-ass computer game; deceptively normal, and then kind of spasming right into the fuckin’ Twilight Zone. Which could mean… He frowns, tilting his head. “You think he’s fighting back somehow? Like, goin’ in and out of control?” He blows out slowly. “Well, if so he’s fuckin’ losing.”

“I think he’s _trying_ to fight it _._ ” Tim drums his fingers on his knee, thinking. _“_ If Babs can’t crack the phone and get the info we need that way, we’re going to have to take B down and interrogate him to figure out what the heck’s going on.”

“Well, yeah, that was always fuckin’ Plan B. Shoulda been Plan A but the rest of you are all too fuckin’ squeamish when it’s _B_ we’re takin’ down,” Jay huffs, crossing his arms.

“We’re being cautious. If there’s a way to determine what’s going on without direct confrontation, of course we’ll exhaust that option first. Compromised or not, that’s still a version of Batman and he’s a formidable opponent, more so right now seeing as we can’t predict his actions without a better understanding of his goals.”

Tim smirks wryly. “Anyway, I know _you_ just want a chance to punch Bruce in the face without repercussions. Well, you may still get it, but I think in light of my new theory we should give him one more shot at breaking through the programming on his own first.”

Jason sobers, regarding his boyfriend more seriously. “How do you figure we go about doin’ that, Baby Bird? I ain’t gonna let you put yourself at risk.”

Tim leans forward, taking Jason’s hand. “No need; with what I’m thinking of, we’ll both be there so you can have my back.” He bites his lip. “Not-B’s behavior was most like _himself_ when something happened that would normally _really_ upset him. It was a brief window, though. I think if we give him a bigger shock, something he’d normally _hate_ , then maybe he’ll manage to break through for long enough to tell us what’s going on.”

Tim frowns, eyes narrowing. “So we’ll need to come at him with something he’d _never_ accept in his right mind, and hopefully the emotional shock will allow him to break free of whatever has a hold on him, or at least enable him to give us some better clues.”

Jason lifts a brow. “And if it doesn’t work, and he just rolls with it?”

“If he just takes it without a fight, we’ll know the situation is even worse than it appears and be prepared to act accordingly.”

Jason nods slowly, considering the possibilities. “Got somethin’ in mind for fuckin’ with him?”

Tim grins, looking a little excited and a lot nervous. “Oh, yeah. But we’re definitely gonna need our backup on this one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Damian, watching suspiciously as Bruce quietly tries to share in the boys’ interests:** “This is intolerable! The imposter is clearly plotting something nefarious!” *Begins to draw katanas*  
>  **Dick, panicking:** “Damian no! Don’t be hasty!” *Drags Jason and Tim into Cave* “Here guys be a distraction!”  
>  **Tim, disoriented:** “Wuh…?” *Shakes head briskly, immediately analyzes situation and decides on a plan. A STRANGE plan.* “Hey B I got piercings!”  
>  **Bruce, giving Tim a weird look:** “What no you don’t—”  
>  **Jason, thinking fast:** *Rapidly pierces Tim’s ears repeatedly with Kris, jamming studs and loops out of nowhere into Tim’s ears at random* “There Timbo, lookin’ good”  
>  **Bruce, horrified:** “OH MY GOD TIM ARE YOU OKAY JASON WHAT THE FLIPPITY FUCK??” *Begins fussing over Tim’s wounds as Tim bats ineffectually at his hands*  
>  **Tim, eying Bruce suspiciously:** “So you don’t MIND me having piercings?” *Backs away slowly*  
>  **Bruce, at his wits end:** “No Tim that is not the main problem I’m seeing here” *Massages bridge of nose due to incipient stress-headache*  
>  **Dick, whispering behind his hand:** “Hey Babs you cracked the codes on B’s phone yet? You know that’s an essential piece of evidence and we’re all COUNTING on you here”  
>  **Babs, acting shady as all hell:** “Oh hells yeah I’m on that right now” *Grins while buffing nails, clearly not working on phone*  
>  **Other Bruce, twirling non-existent mustache while witch-cackling:** *Eats some popcorn* “I live for this shit”


	7. Chapter 7

Red Robin collects another sample from the dark, still water of the reservoir as Jayhawk keeps watch from atop a nearby office building, ready to react to anything out of the ordinary.

 _I just wish something would fuckin’_ happen _already. Following Ivy around all day made me jumpy as hell, it’s like waitin’ for the other shoe to drop._

Jay watches as Red joins him on the rooftop, and begins a quick field analysis. The last samples didn’t turn up anything unusual, but that was before Pamela Isley went on a walk past the reservoir this afternoon and paused to dip her hand in the water.

 _Maybe we’ll finally get a fuckin’ break on this weird case._ “Anything?”

Red shrugs. “Nothing’s coming up using my field kit besides the trace amounts of antidepressants, hormones, antibiotics, Joker venom, industrial pollutants, and Scarecrow toxin that are present in all of Gotham’s soil, water, and people. The Cave’s facilities might pick up something I’m missing out here.”

 _What the fuck, seriously_? A _ll that shit in our water, no fuckin’ wonder everyone from Gotham’s so screwed up. That’s fuckin’ depressing._

Red Robin carefully packs the sample away in a pouch on his bandoliers, then looks up. “Any word on Ivy’s location?”

And that’s what’s really got Jayhawk on edge. Tailing a suspicious rogue all day and then fucking _losing_ her in a crowd, when they still don’t know anything about her end game or even what the hell she’s using to make half of Gotham fuck like bunnies, is enough to give anyone a bad day.

“Not yet, Prettyboy.” Jayhawk shifts restlessly. “Still waitin’ to hear back from one of the girls, works as an escort and sometimes sees things on the ritzy side of town.” He sighs. “Not really expectin’ much from her, to be honest. It’s a long shot.”

Red Robin smiles reassurance at him. “Don’t worry. Ivy’s been visible enough during the day; if we can’t catch her tonight, we’ll just pick up her trail again tomorrow.”

Jayhawk makes a face. He’s the one Ivy managed to disappear on, so it’s on him if she makes her big move now.

Red picks up on his low mood and bumps shoulders companionably. Jay perks up a bit, remembering something less depressing to talk about than all the dead ends they keep hitting on this stupid case. “Oh hey, remember that one really cooperative thug the other night? The muscle I brought down at the Maroni bust?”

Red Robin huffs. “You mean that poor guy you took the unnecessarily huge blood sample from? Yep, hard to forget. What about him?”

Jay scoffs. “Whatever, I left him with a juice box and some bars, he was fine.” He shakes his head, ignoring Red’s amused snort, then continues. “Well, the guy showed up at the Center today, askin’ ‘bout classes. Thought you’d wanna know.” A slow smile spreads on Jay’s face as he watches his boyfriend’s expression lift at the news his pet project has reached one more person in need.

“That’s awesome, Jay. Just showing up and asking for help is a huge step for most of these guys.”

“Apparently he’s got a kid, little girl who thinks the world of him, an’ he wants to clean up his act and do right by her.”

“Does she have any idea what he does for a living?” Red’s brows draw together in concern.

“Doubt it. Most of his paychecks go to sending her to a good school.” Jayhawk breathes in, pushing back memories of his own shitty criminal father and how most of _his_ paychecks went straight down the bottle. _Whatever, that’s all in the past now, and I_ have _a real dad. A good one._

The corners of Red’s lips tilt up. “That’s… admirable of him. It sounds like he’s exactly the kind of person we’re trying to reach, someone who has a reason to want to change and be better.”

_I sure as hell like the idea of helpin’ other kids in that situation, though. Willis was a bastard straight through, but there’s probably plenty of others like this guy who are just trapped in a fucked up cycle of poverty and crime._

An idea begins forming in Jayhawk’s mind, tenuous imaginings of what he’ll do with his literature degree once he graduates bumping up against various fragments of Red’s occasional rant about how hard it is to keep the Center staffed, especially with people willing and able to teach former criminals from impoverished and uneducated backgrounds. Jay’s good with cars, too; maybe he could teach basic mechanics as well for job training. “Hey Red?”

“Yeah Jay?”

“This rehab and training thing you’re doing is a fuckin’ great idea. When this case is over, d’you think there’s any opportunities for me to help out with it?”

Red Robin’s face _lights up,_ and Jay wonders how long his Prettyboy’s been waiting for him to ask that very question. “Absolutely!” Red starts to say something else, then pauses, tilting his head to listen. “Was that your phone?”

Jayhawk pulls it out and thumbs through the message from his informant, then bites back a grin. _Fuck yeah, we finally got a break._ “We got an address.”

*

“Somethin’ doesn’t seem right,” Jayhawk whispers as he crouches on the balcony, listening to the happy female voices and laughter from inside the Upper East Side loft apartment overlooking Robinson Park, just a quick grapple away from the reservoir. “I hate to say this, but it was a little too fuckin’ easy to track Ivy down.”

Red Robin alights on the balcony on the other side of the closed French doors and presses himself against the wall, eying a nearby potted plant with suspicion. “Think it’s a trap?” He stills, trying to discern the voices within the building. “Who’s in there with her?”

“Dunno. But she’s been way the hell too obvious for this to be one of her usual schemes. I mean, there were the sightings in the park, those reports of her near the reservoir, and now she’s conveniently right here where we thought she’d be? I don’t fuckin’ trust this.”

“I know,” Red Robin whispers. “If Poison Ivy is responsible for what’s been happening in Gotham lately, then there’s definitely another layer to her plan. Her toxins generally seek to achieve mind control, to get people to do her bidding or at least get them out of her way so she’s free to engage in whatever act of ecoterrorism or environmental protection constitutes her ultimate goal.” He frowns, considering. “So if this is Ivy, the toxin must have another phase; the first symptoms are similar to an aphrodisiac, with some people reacting violently; the next may very well be something that makes people vulnerable to mind control, or worse.”

Jayhawk blows out a quiet breath. “Well, fuck. So we take her down?”

_I wish it were that simple, Jay._

Red Robin shakes his head slowly. “We can’t, even if we were _sure_ it’s her, which we’re not. Not until we have a sample of her original formula, so we can develop a cure. And anyway, she might be working on something totally different and there’s some other player behind the case we’re investigating.” _Unlikely, but still a possibility we can’t ignore._

Jayhawk snorts. “That’s a stretch, Prettyboy; we got civilians goin’ nuts ‘cause of some unknown toxin, and Ivy actin’ real suspicious? She’s our girl.”

Red Robin shrugs. “Either way, we need more info and we may be able to get it from Ivy if she’s in a monologuing mood.” He checks his bandoliers quickly, confirming the weed killer, tranqs, and various plant growth inhibitors are all still in place. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jay nod to confirm he’s ready too. “Let’s try not to antagonize her any more than necessary. Ivy can be reasonable if she isn’t goaded.”

“Sounds good, Red.” Jayhawk rises to his feet, then jumps at the unexpected rich alto female voice speaking from just on the other side of the French doors.

“If you boys are quite finished, why don’t we have a chat? I’d offer you a drink, but you weren’t invited, and I don’t think you’d accept anything from my hand anyway.”

The doors begin to swing out, and Jayhawk chokes as the opening doors reveal Poison Ivy in a filmy pale green robe with a design of twining darker green vines dotted with red flowers climbing her body, the suggestion of a green corset picked with intricate red roses just visible beneath the curving swell of her cleavage where the robe has fallen open.

Waves of loose red hair spill over her shoulders and her vivid green eyes shoot daggers at the interlopers, who both stare in undisguised shock as the door swings open further to reveal an excited, bouncing Harley Quinn.

 _Okay, why can’t anything_ ever _go according to plan? Since when are Harley and Ivy teamed up again? All our intel pointed at Harley still being hung up on Joker and on the outs with Ivy…_

“Oooh Red we got visitors? Is it Batsy? Or maybe Birdie, y’know, the real bendy one?” Harley drapes her arms over Ivy’s shoulders and peers past her, blonde pigtails bouncing with her movements as she grins cheerfully at the vigilantes. “Oh it’s the _lovebirds!_ I always had a soft spot for them, us romantics gotta stick together!”

Harley steps to the side, causing the Bats to choke again as her outfit is revealed. She’s wearing a frilly bra top in her trademark black and red, trimmed with leather and sparkles, with a laced black and red corset belt and black micro leather boy shorts adorned with ribbon, all over black fishnets and a pair of killer boots. _Holy shit._

“Um, I think we may have _interrupted_ something—” Red Robin says uncomfortably, edging backwards. They’re not equipped to face off against both Harley and Ivy, and from the look on Ivy’s face they are _definitely_ interrupting something, and not welcome. Best to regroup and strategize with the new information—

Jayhawk stops him with a firm grip on his elbow. “Sorry, ladies, but after we went to all the trouble of trackin’ ya down we don’t wanna take a rain check. Mind answering a few questions?”

_Okay, guess we’re doing this now then…_

Harley lets out a laugh, high and bubbly, her bright blue eyes sparkling over painted red lips stretched in a wide smile. “Hiya Birdies, no worries! We been half-expectin’ Bats to show up followin’ the trail but I guess you’ll do okay. Whaddaya think, Red?”

“I _think_ we have some uninvited guests, and I’m perfectly willing to _show them out.”_ Ivy’s hand reaches for something inside her top and both Bats tense, ready for one of her poisoned darts or swiftly growing plant-based weapons.

Harley’s joyful and only slightly deranged laughter breaks the tension as she catches Ivy’s questing hand in hers, weaving their fingers together and squeezing up against Ivy’s side. “They’re just here to _talk,_ right Birdies? We’re reformed, we got nothin’ to worry about with these kids anymore. We’re all _friends_ here now!”

“Since fuckin’ _when,_ this is news to me.” Jayhawk mutters under his breath. Ivy narrows her eyes at him and Red Robin elbows him in the side.

_Shut up, Jay. There’s a time and a place for sass!_

He hurries to calm things down. “You’re right, we just want to talk. We were hoping Ivy might know something about some unusual recent events that we believe may be due to an unknown substance or toxin exercising an aphrodisiac effect on the populace.”

Red eyes Harley, who has draped herself along Ivy’s side and is now nuzzling her throat. The redhead is trying and failing to control both her companion and the flush rising on her face. “…Although it’s beginning to look more as though you two are _affected_ by it than anything else.” Red regards the pair intently. “Did you notice any abrupt changes in your emotional state lately?”

“Affected?” Ivy sounds cautious, retrieving Harley’s other hand from where it was creeping below the neckline of her top. “Tell me what you mean, brat. Are you saying we’re in danger?” Her voice sharpens with worry and her eyes cut to Harley, protectiveness and deep affection clear in her stance and words.

Red Robin blinks, then answers. “Not as far as we know,” he says carefully. “But until we apprehend the criminals responsible, we can’t be sure about anything besides the obvious symptoms.”

“Which is why you came to me.” Ivy nods. “I will admit this is not dissimilar to some of my work in the past.” She eyes them both coolly before raising a single eyebrow and shaking her head slowly. “…But it’s not me this time, boys.”

“Well it sure fuckin’ looks like you two’ve at least been _exposed_ somehow. Notice anything out of the ordinary lately? Eat anything weird over the past few days? Get gassed or injected, walk through a suspiciously magical-lookin’ cloud of pixie dust?”

Both women stare at Jayhawk like he’s some kind of moron, and Red barely manages to resist the urge to facepalm. “What?” Jay says defensively. “You’ve obviously been exposed, I mean look at you two, you’re climbin’ all over each other.”

Red Robin holds up his hands placatingly as both women glare at Jayhawk. “He doesn’t mean to insult you; we’re just trying to figure out what’s going on before someone gets hurt. This is ultimately for your protection as well; we don’t know if the symptoms may intensify or change, so it’s in everyone’s best interests to track down the culprit before it’s too late.”

Neither woman seems particularly moved by his words, Ivy glancing away with a small smirk and Harley simply winking at him.

Harley giggles, twirling her hair and bouncing in place. “Don’t look so glum, boys, this thing that’s happening ain’t gonna hurt no one. I mean, just look at me an’ Red! I’m not with Mistah Jay no more. I ain’t never goin’ back to that, fallin’ for the worst guy in the world. I’m not a doormat anymore. My ex-Honey an’ I are _through.”_ A sad expression flits across her mobile face, quickly chased away by a bright grin as she turns back to Poison Ivy and embraces her tightly. “But I’ve gotta _new_ Honey now, one who really _deserves_ my love!”

Ivy smiles softly as she gently returns the hug, clasping Harley close for a long moment before releasing her with a soft kiss to her temple. Her gaze hardens as she looks back at the vigilantes. “Now that we have established we don’t know anything about this case you are investigating, you can redirect your attention elsewhere. You are trespassing. Leave. _Now.”_

 _Damn. It’s obvious they’re hiding something, but it isn’t clear yet_ what…

“In case ya ain’t figured it out yet, this is our honeymoon and you boys are _interruptin’ our fun times.”_ Harley pulls a baseball bat out of nowhere, flourishing it in the air and striking a pose with a bright grin. “This ain’t nothin’ on my mallet, but I figured I should go easy on you boys. Y’know, in honor of the occasion an’ all. Plus, I _love_ to hit Bats with a bat!”

_Shit. We may not be able to de-escalate the situation now; reformed or not, Harley’s clearly still as volatile as ever, and I doubt Ivy will just stand back and watch for long._

Red Robin takes a step back, pulling an unwilling Jayhawk along with him. “No need for any of that, ladies, we just want some more information—” He yelps in surprise as he dodges a poisoned dart, and Jayhawk yanks him out of the path of another while Poison Ivy chuckles darkly.

 _Where was she even_ hiding _those in that outfit… wait, I probably don’t wanna know…_

Harley lifts the baseball bat over her head easily, grin widening. “Doncha wanna think about this? We don’t really wanna beat ya up, on account of you’re a real sweet couple, an’ we’re turnin’ over a new leaf here an’ all—” Harley elbows Ivy, snorting a laugh as the redhead rolls her eyes and tries to hide her smile. “Get it, Red? _Leaf!”_

Jayhawk chuckles, shrugging when Red Robin gives him a dirty look. “What? She’s funny!”

“Look, there’s no need for this to turn into a fight—” Red Robin dodges as Harley swings at him.

“Hey, scram Bats! This is our girl’s night, no boys allowed!” She kicks out at him and he leaps back as she pivots effortlessly into a second kick aimed at Jayhawk, who catches her foot and uses the leverage to throw her.

Harley tucks and rolls to her feet easily, somehow still wielding the baseball bat menacingly over her head. “Ya didn’t think it would be that easy, didja? Come an’ get me, boys! I double dare ya!”

As the Bats square off against their opponents, Ivy’s cool voice speaks up from where she stands still, watching the fight. “If you hurt her, I’ll feed you to my plants.”

_Great._

Harley pouts, cocking a hip and resting the baseball bat on her shoulder. “Sorry boys, it’s just we can’t help you right now. We still gotta make sure my ex-Puddin’ won’t go and ruin everything for us…” She shuts up fast as Ivy jerks her head to the side, glaring warningly. Harley giggles shrilly, shrugging apologetically. _“Whoopsie!_ Sorry Babe, forgot we ain’t supposed to talk ‘bout that.”

Ivy rubs at her forehead, shaking her head slightly and smiling tolerantly. “Don’t worry, Harley, they won’t be able to stop anything at this point.” She looks up, focusing sharply on the two Bats with a dangerous gleam in her eyes. “I’ll make sure of it.” She throws something at them again and they move to dodge.

Red’s mind is awhirl, dozens of potential interpretations of the duo’s unguarded words jostling for precedence in his mind, none of them good. It sounds like whatever their end game is, it’s already in motion, and if it has something to do with the _Joker…_ He spares a glance to check on Jayhawk, suddenly gripped by an irrational terror the psychotic clown will suddenly appear as though summoned by his fear.

 _Jesus self, relax, he’s not_ Voldemort, _we can handle this_. Red shakes his head to clear his mind, bringing his attention back to the fight a moment too late.

Harley giggles insanely, swinging wildly at Red Robin just as he leaps out of the path of Ivy’s projectiles, and _slamming_ her bat into his shoulder. “Bat’er up! Whoopsie! Birdie has a boo-boo!” She frowns, pulling back as he clutches at his bruised shoulder and falls back behind a protective Jayhawk. “Ow! That looks like it hurt. But ya kinda jumped in front of me there. No hard feelings, okay?” She smiles winningly, batting her thick eyelashes at the wary vigilantes as Ivy snorts in dark amusement.

“Just tell us what the fuck is goin’ on! Then we’ll leave ya alone, s’long as you don’t step outta line.” Jayhawk holds out an arm to keep Red Robin from edging around him. “I’ll even keep Bats off your backs. Now what the fuck was that about the _Joker?”_ His voice drops to a growl on the name.

Red Robin bites his lip, eyes darting back and forth between the rogues and his boyfriend, torn between the need for more intel and the _need_ to get Jay home, and keep him _safe._

Harley gives them a glittering smile, twirling her baseball bat ostentatiously. “No can do. It’s nothin’ personal, kiddo, girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Ooh, Red, is that your special neuro toxin I smell?”

_Double shit._

Turning to the alarmed vigilantes, Harley grins wildly. “My girl’s a real smartie, ain’t she?” Her laughter has a hysterical edge. “Oh, ya might wanna run now. Me an’ Red are immune, but I doubt _you_ are!”

Their rebreathers are in their hands and then on their faces before she’s even finished talking, but both vigilantes know better than to take their chances in a situation facing two of Gotham’s rogues on their own territory when they’ve got something to lose.

They dive off the balcony, their landing fortunately cushioned by a half-full dumpster in the alleyway behind the apartment. _Ugh, gross. I think that used to be pastrami._

Two curious heads peek over the balcony to regard the two vigilantes as they lie in a tangle of limbs, momentarily stunned.

“Oooh, you okay down there?” Harley actually manages to sound solicitous, as though she didn’t just spend the last few minutes attacking them with a baseball bat.

Jayhawk stretches, untangling himself, and then turns to check on Red Robin, who gives him a wry smile. “Yeah, we’re pretty good,” he calls back up. “But you think about what we said, okay? If Joker’s involved in this shitshow somehow, you gotta let us know so we can help you before ya get hurt. That psycho’s dangerous, no matter whose side you think he’s on.”

“We can handle ourselves. We don’t need help from any _man.”_ Ivy’s fiery head retreats scornfully and a delicate hand reaches out to attempt to tug Harley back into the room. “Come on, Harls, let’s close the doors. The trash is starting to smell out here.”

Harley continues to peek at them, wide eyes traveling from one to the other as the two young men climb out of the dumpster and gently, carefully check each other over for injuries. She smiles widely. “Y’know, you’re both pretty cute. All you Bats are.” Harley arches her back and looks over her shoulder at Ivy. “Hey Babe, y’think you’d ever be interested in a _moresome_ with some cuties like these boys?”

 _Oh my god, what._ Red Robin exchanges a panicked glance with Jay before slowly looking up.

At Ivy’s wordless growl of pure _rage_ and the distinctive sound of something green and _growing_ bursting out of the apartment toward them, Jayhawk and Red Robin move as one to _get the fuck out, abort, abort, mission failure, retreat and live to fight another day_ to the rousing sound of Harley’s high-pitched giggles and Ivy’s muttered curses vowing brutal and painful retribution against all things male _._

Panting, they finally come to a halt on a rooftop over ten blocks away from where the dangerous ladies are holed up for their romantic retreat. “Holy shit,” Red Robin manages after a moment. _That was a little too close._

“Fuck,” Jayhawk agrees, draping an arm around Red and pulling him in close for a moment of physical reassurance they are both okay.

Red Robin presses close to his boyfriend, closing his eyes for a moment, then pulls back, frowning. “They definitely know more than they let on, but I don’t think Ivy’s the mastermind here. It was more like…”

“She _knows_ who’s doing it…” Jayhawk sounds uncertain, but Red agrees with his hypothesis.

“And she’s protecting them. I think this toxin might have helped her get Harley away from the Joker, so she’s willing to protect the mastermind out of gratitude or obligation.”

“Well shit. Dunno how we’re gonna be able to get anything outta her now, if she already chose her side.”

Red shrugs. “We’ll figure that out. It’s still a lead, which is more than we had before.”

The comm crackles to life, Batman’s voice dark with urgency interrupting them. “Red Robin, Jayhawk, I need you both back at base right _now.”_

The two vigilantes exchange a worried glance. “Acknowledged.”

It’s probably too much to hope whatever has B worried isn’t related to the case they’re working.

*

As the fleeing vigilantes fade into the darkness of the Gotham night, Ivy gestures and her babies retreat and shrink back down into their pots. Musingly, she strokes one gently with her hand, retrieving and crushing the listening device one of those damn Bats must have thrown onto it at the last moment.

Her eyes are on Harley as the lovely, sweet blonde looks back over her shoulder at Ivy, and _laughs,_ so happy and open _._ Something sharp and aching and so, so beautiful it hurts flutters in Ivy’s chest as she watches the woman she loves.

 _I don’t know how I managed to finally have this, have_ her. _But I’m not going to let_ anyone _take this away from us now._

“That was so much _fun,_ Red! Can we still play with the bats and birdies, even though we’re tryin’ ta keep on the straight an’ narrow?” Harley’s eyes lose focus for a moment, then she snorts, directing a pleased grin at Ivy. “Never mind, that came out wrong! _Straight! Us! HA!”_

As her new wife dissolves into torrents of cackling laughter on the floor, Ivy doesn’t even try to suppress the slow smile spreading on her lips. “Honey, we can play with anyone you want.” She chuckles, sliding out her phone and ignoring Harley’s excited exclamations as she places the call.

“Go ahead,” the voice answers.

“We’ve bought you all the time we can, and now our business is complete.” Her voice is cool; she will always be grateful for the intervention that brought Harley safely into her arms and away from that _beast,_ but if they try to press for more than the previously arranged terms… Well. She knows plenty of ways of getting rid of bodies. They make excellent fertilizer, for one.

“Agreed.” The deep voice pauses for a moment, then speaks again. “Thank you, Ivy.”

“I didn’t do it for _you.”_ Ivy presses her lips together, regretting the harshness in her tone as Harley stops playing on the floor and sits up, looking at her with worry in her large blue eyes. Ivy strokes a hand over her lover’s hair, soothing her gently as she rises to her feet to nestle against Ivy and listen with her. “Just tell me. Is it done? Did you—” Harley catches her hand and presses a kiss to it, then clutches it as she stares at the phone, holding her breath while awaiting the answer.

The voice continues to speak, and Ivy closes her eyes, holds a shaking, nervously giggling Harley protectively close, and _smiles,_ eyes stinging and heart singing _._

*

Batman clenches his fists so tightly the gauntlets creak. If Red Robin and Jayhawk don’t pull safely into the Cave in the next five minutes, he is going out himself to get them back and _screw_ the goddamn unknown contaminant. His boys are out there alone, and _the_ _Joker is missing from his cell in Arkham._

 _If anything happens to them… if that_ monster _touches a hair on their heads, I’ll…_

Alfred’s calm, clear voice penetrates Batman’s increasingly dark thoughts with welcome news. “Sir, the Redbird is approaching the south entrance.” The older man eyes him, careful concern nearly masked by his usual stoic expression. “I’ll fetch tea.”

Batman watches as the Redbird pulls into the Cave and parks, scrutinizing the younger vigilantes as they step out of the vehicle and approach him. They’re both moving smoothly and naturally, no sign of injuries except a slight stiffness in the way Red Robin moves his arm. Neither appears harmed although they are clearly worried, concern showing in their eyes as they remove their masks to face him.

They didn’t meet the Joker.

Batman’s knees almost give way with the sheer _relief_ that knowledge brings him.

 _Thank god,_ he thinks numbly, pushing back the cowl and rubbing a hand across his face. Tim regards him, frowning, and Jason’s brow is furrowing.

“Dad? What happened?”

His son is asking him what’s wrong, but how can Bruce tell him the truth?

_How can I tell him I’ve failed him again? That all the measures I’ve taken to confine the monster who haunts his dreams, the one who nearly stole him from me once before, were in vain?_

_How can I tell him Joker’s_ free, _and I have no idea where he is?_

In the end, he doesn’t need to say anything. Tim’s face is white. “It’s the Joker, isn’t it?” he whispers, and Jason barely suppresses a flinch. “Harley and Ivy dropped some hints. They were nothing but a distraction, and we fell for it.”

Heavily, Bruce nods. “The Joker has escaped from Arkham. The facility lost power and somehow all of the security measures were circumvented during the outage; the Joker was the only prisoner to escape.”

Jason blinks at this information. “Fuck,” he finally manages.

Bruce bites back a comment at his son’s language; Jason’s coping with a horribly stressful situation right now and Bruce isn’t going to deny his boy anything he needs to feel calm and in control. “I will not allow him to harm you, Jason.” He puts his hand on his son’s shoulder and realizes he’s shaking, minute trembles traveling up his tall young frame. Bruce drags him into a hug. “I promise,” he whispers, vowing in his heart this is one promise that will never be broken.

Tim presses his hand to the center of Jason’s back, rubbing soothing circles. “He won’t get the chance,” Tim says softly, a dark, almost frightening look in his eyes promising vengeance. He blinks, and his expression is back to normal. “What’s the investigation status?”

“I’m going over the existing footage looking for evidence; Oracle is searching the Arkham network and running facial recognition for everyone who’s crossed the bridge to the asylum in the past week. I need to head over to Arkham to search for clues myself—”

“No,” Jason’s voice is savage as he pulls back and glares at Bruce. “Fuck no, that’s probably exactly what the sick fuck _wants_ you to do.”

Bruce inhales, ready to argue, but Tim’s nodding, wrapping his arm around Jason’s back and curling into his side as Jason presses him close, burying his face in the smaller boy’s hair. “He’s right, B. We think this has something to do with the aphrodisiac case we’ve been working; based on the interaction with Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn earlier this evening, the cases are linked.”

Unfortunately, Bruce agrees; he has already listened to the relevant portions of the confrontation between the boys, Ivy, and Harley several times, attempting to glean every possible clue from the interaction. It’s why he _needs_ to get to Arkham, to stop their play before it goes too far.

Bruce directs his full attention to Tim as the boy calmly continues. “Whether they are working with him or with an unknown third party against him, there’s too much going on that we don’t understand right now, and too much at risk to make any hasty moves. If you head over there, you’re probably playing into another trap. Not to mention you’re still vulnerable to the aphrodisiac. You have to stay here.”

Looking at their determined, earnest young faces, Bruce sees the fear and vulnerability they’re both trying to hide. He _needs_ to go investigate, pick up the Joker’s trail before it goes cold…

But his family needs him more. After all, he _knows_ viscerally the result of what happens when he places the Mission before his family. He never wants to become that man, never wants to cause his children to suffer.

Shoulders dropping, he sighs. “I’ll do as much as I can from the Cave tonight. But tomorrow’s another story.”

Smiling, Tim dips his chin in a nod. “We’ll argue with you about it then, I guess.”

Jason huffs a laugh, squeezing his boyfriend close before looking up at Bruce. “I guess we’re stayin’ at the Manor tonight then?”

Heart clenching at even the _idea_ of any of his children out on their own in Gotham with the Joker on the loose, Bruce growls, “Until further notice. You need to stay here until the Joker is recaptured.”

Jason snorts. “We can fight about that shit later too. Right now, what can we do to help?”

“You and Tim already traced Ivy’s movements over the past week. Go back and do the same for Harley Quinn; she is most likely involved in anything to do with the Joker, and is now linked to Ivy as well. Depending on what you find, I suspect we may need to track her down again for another more in-depth discussion.”

Nodding, the boys get to work and Bruce sinks back into his chair, determination driving his efforts and sharpening his mind. The case has become abruptly even more urgent, and he fears the results if he can’t find the right thread to untangle the mystery in time to prevent tragedy.

 _The Joker won’t touch them,_ any _of them. I won’t allow it._

*

“Um, I’m not gonna say you’re _wrong,_ Little D, but Bruce is a grown man who’s allowed to date and fall in love with someone.” Dick eyes his littlest brother carefully, watching for signs of distress. He avoids looking at the picture the little boy just showed him, because _wow._

 _I always knew Bruce liked dark hair and blue eyes, but I didn’t realize it went quite_ that _far._

Pushing aside his deep mental disturbance at Bruce basically finding and dating someone who could easily pass for his own sister, Dick focuses on the younger brother before him who clearly needs his help. “Why do you want to drive her away, Dami?”

The plans he caught Damian and Steph working on, detailing a massive obstacle course scavenger hunt mashup covering all of Gotham, are somewhat worrying. More concerning to Dick, however, is the haunted look in his ten year-old brother’s eyes. Damian isn’t supposed to look like that anymore, and he _hasn’t,_ not since the day they swept in to rescue him from the horrible, cruel life into which the child had been born.

Damian stares at him, eyes narrowed. “Are you a complete fool, Grayson? Of course I wish to drive the stepmother away! She threatens my birthright, our family, and perhaps Father’s very life; should not all of us strive to stop her, by any means necessary?”

Dick stares at the little boy, wondering wildly how these things come out of his mouth and where the _hell_ is Bruce, who should by all rights be the one dealing with this right now…

_Okay…_

“Well, that’s a lot to unpack,” Dick starts carefully. “But it sounds to me like you’re worried Bruce is going to marry this woman, and somehow that will take away your place in the family? Um, and I’m not sure what you mean about her being a threat to B’s life…”

Damian snorts, throwing up his small hands in exasperation. “I should not need to explain any of this to you, Grayson! _You_ are the one who read me the cultural indoctrination teachings when I first came to live here!”

_What._

“What.” Dick blinks in confusion as Damian glares at him.

“The instructional stories! Many detailed the machinations and wiles of stepmothers; I know to expect unfair punishment, likely corporal and emotional; forced manual labor; possible poisoning attempts; and certainly distancing from those I care about. Once she has wed Father, there shall be no end to my suffering, and you and Todd will be cast out as penniless paupers to eke a meager existence by the roadsides, perhaps resorting to selling yourselves in exchange for meager scraps of bread.”

 _I’m worth more than a few scraps of bread- wait, what the_ fuck _has he been reading?!_

“Damian, _what?!”_ Dick grabs the little boy, who is shaking with emotion and blinking back tears, and pulls him into a _tight_ hug. “Oh my god, okay, so I recognized _some_ of that from the fairytales I used to read you. Guess I shouldn’t have gone full Grimm; those used to give me nightmares too, come to think of it… but Dami, you _know_ those stories aren’t _real!”_

Damian sniffles, blinking up at him suspiciously, tousled hair poking up like an adorable little porcupine. _Aww…_

“What do you mean, not real?”

Dick can’t quite suppress his chuckle at his cute, naïve little brother’s innocence. “They’re just stories, Dami. That’s not how real stepmothers behave.” He cuddles the small boy comfortingly. “Bruce would _never_ be with someone who would hurt the family, hurt _you_ like that. He _loves_ you, we _all_ do, and adding more love to the family won’t take anything away from you. We won’t let it.” He gently squeezes to emphasize his point.

The bundle in his arms sniffs loudly again as Damian rubs his eyes with his hands. “Are you positive? Father did not care enough to share his new relationship with the rest of us. Perhaps he prefers _her_ to our current family.”

_Damn you, Bruce…_

“That’s just B, kiddo. He’s bad at talking about how he feels sometimes, even though he makes an effort to try.” He sighs. “It’s normal for people to date, and fall in love; I know it’s hard, being the kid with separated parents and having to watch one of them start to move on romantically, but it doesn’t mean your dad or your mom love _you_ any less. And it _definitely_ doesn’t mean Bruce would suddenly bring some horrible, child-torturing stepmother into your life.”

Damian is still for a moment, and Dick smiles hopefully. _I think I’m getting through to him…_

With a final sniffle, Damian sits back and nods briskly. “I will accept your theory Father would not knowingly introduce a vicious harpy into our lives to savagely destroy our peace and fortunes.”

_Yay, that wasn’t so hard! I’m the best big brother ever!_

“…But as you admitted yourself, Father is not the most astute when it comes to matter of the heart. We must continue work on the suitor’s challenges of valor, to test her mettle and satisfy ourselves Father is not being taken for a fool.”

 _Oh, Dami._ Dick smiles and resigns himself to keeping an eye on this. It wouldn’t do to let Bruce’s new romantic interest be fed to Killer Croc or something by his overly enthusiastic younger siblings.

_Damn, B has a girlfriend and I didn’t even get a chance to help set them up with my mad matchmaking skills… maybe I can still find some way to help!_

Dick grins to himself.

_Bruce sucks at romance, he probably needs all the help he can get to woo his disturbingly familiar-looking lady-love…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Jayhawk, landing on balcony:** “Welp just gonna see if Poison Ivy knows anything ‘bout this mystery toxin…” *Knocks*  
>  **Red Robin, landing a second later:** “Holy shit wait we need a PLAN—” *Facepalms as door opens*  
>  **Poison Ivy, sexy and deadly:** “We didn’t order any strippers” *Reaches for murderous plant-based weaponry*  
>  **Harley, giggling like a madwoman:** “Maybe YOU didn’t” *Drapes self all over Ivy, eying boys lecherously*  
>  **Jayhawk, drawing back defensively:** “I feel harassed. You feel harassed, Prettyboy?”  
>  **Red Robin, shrugging:** “Kinda, yeah. We’re getting off track tho. Fess up, ladies!”  
>  **Harley, Ivy:** “Lol NOPE” *Fight boys off balcony and into dumpster* “Time to take out the trash!”  
>  **Batman, face palming:** “Really. Did that actually just happen. Ugh, anyway, get back to base, Joker’s escaped” *Stands in one place brooding angstily until boys return*  
>  **Jayhawk, Red Robin:** “WTF”  
>  *  
>  **Damian, eyes glittering with unshed tears:** *Sniffs*  
>  **Dick, horrified and protective:** “Why are you crying Dami oh god tell me” *Clutches tiny brother protectively in arms*  
>  **Damian, dramatically:** “Father is to wed a cruel harlot who shall place me in a tower and feed me naught but poisoned apples!” *Swoons*  
>  **Dick, skeptical:** “Uh, okaaaaay… so you DO know that all those fairytales I read you are make believe, right?”  
>  **Damian, sitting up furiously:** “You mean you LIED?!” *Begins to draw katanas*  
>  **Dick, fleeing in justified terror:** “Meep!”  
>  *
> 
> Hey folks, thank you to all who are reading this story, and those who are encouraging me through comments, kudos, or the power of positive thought (it’s probably a thing, right? I’m gonna assume it’s a thing.)
> 
> I just wanted to give those following this story a heads up that work is going to devour most of my time for a bit, so it’s unlikely I’ll be able to update for the next week or two. I’ll be back when things slow down again at work! While I’m here, I have some people to thank for sharing ideas in the comments and helping shape this series. 
> 
> Multiple people mentioned wanting to see Other Bruce school the original Bruce for being a shit parent, including Titans_R_Us, katdemon1895, AyameRose, utazawa, and Tattoedfanperson, who actually asked for tattoos/piercings as well as Other Bruce yelling at Bruce for being a horrible parent, so credit to you guys for those ideas! This story probably wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t given me those suggestions. Thank you!
> 
> Mostly_Void_Partially_Stars had a lot of fun ideas for the backstory on Surprisingly Cooperative Thug, the guy Jay took the huge blood sample from back in chapter 5, some of which made it into this story and all of which are immortalized in the biggest comment thread ever [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/180699042) Thanks for the ideas!
> 
> Limne, I love your fun ideas about theories why Bruce is acting weird; I think most of those are going to end up in chapter 8 if they aren't already captured in chapter 6. Thank you!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy where the story goes from here! :)
> 
> P.S. utazawa wrote a fantastic little bonus scene for this chapter in the comments and gave me permission to share it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/183609350). Check it out, it’s hilarious! :D


	8. Chapter 8

Bruce observes the feeds with a rising sense of trepidation, watching as one by one all four of his sons gather at the Manor and disappear into Damian’s room, whispering. Jason is carrying a box of board games, but Bruce will eat his cowl if the boys are actually going to play any of them.

He is uncertain what exactly the boys are planning to do, but the fact _all_ of them are involved speaks to the potential volatility of the situation. They may be working a case together, but their choice of meeting location renders that possibility remote; the Cave and the Nest are equipped with superior computers and would be better choices for such a rendezvous.

It is also possible they are planning a surprise birthday party for Alfred, in which case, Bruce has no objections, and will attempt to sneak in his own present for the kindly old man who had a hand in raising all of them.

Most likely, however, is some manner of rebellion against Bruce himself, retaliation for his recent uncharacteristic behavior in regard to his well-trained boys. He sighs, hoping against hope his suspicion is incorrect and Alfred is about to have a pleasant surprise.

 _I knew I was pushing the Plan too fast,_ he thinks mutinously. _This is all Other Bruce’s fault._

But as his mind drifts back over the last couple of days and the expressions of shock, disbelief, and confusion reflected on his children’s faces as he reached out to them and clumsily attempted to convey the depth of his affection, he is forced to acknowledge the truth.

This isn’t Other Bruce’s fault at all.

It’s his.

_Well, at least this will be settled one way or the other presently and then we can all move on._

If the boys truly believe he is compromised, they will most likely act in coordination to take him down using a combination of wiles and force. They won’t waste any time in doing so once they make the decision to act; in fact, they will in all probability make their move as soon as possible once they have decided on a plan. Said plan may already be in motion.

Bruce eyes the various Cave defense systems distrustfully, wondering if he is about to be sprayed in the face with knockout gas or tagged with a tranquilizer dart. He forces himself not to preemptively defend himself or prepare in any way; if the boys are observing him remotely, acting _more_ suspiciously is not going to help the situation.

If the boys _don’t_ believe Bruce is compromised, then he is actually even more concerned about whatever they are up to in Damian’s room, case notes and birthday plans aside. Working together, those boys could probably build a doomsday device, take over the League of Assassins, or incite a riot using nothing more than the power of the internet, creativity, and some paperclips.

Not for the first time, Bruce vaguely regrets training his children in _quite_ so many varied disciplines and skillsets.

Feeling old and tired, Bruce pulls out his multiversal phone, hoping Other Bruce may have some useful advice.

 **_Buttman:_ ** _The boys are all in the Manor. I suspect they are planning something._

 **_Batman:_ ** _You should be supportive and welcoming regardless of what they want. This is a very delicate stage of the Plan._

 **_Batman:_ ** _If you alienate them at this point, they may never forgive you._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _But what if they are plotting something stupid or dangerous._

 **_Batman:_ ** _Be supportive damn it._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _I think Tim is behind this._

 **_Batman:_ ** _Tim is always plotting; it is like breathing to him. He gets it from his mother._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _What if they are angry with me for how badly I’ve failed them in the past. I am not ready to face them all at once like this._

 **_Batman:_ ** _Don’t you dare run now. Stay there and face your angry children like a man._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _…_

 **_Batman:_ ** _Like a man dressed as a giant rodent._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _…_

 **_Batman:_ ** _If you run now I will drag you to the universe where all the kids are female._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _There is nothing wrong with that. Females are just as capable as males._

 **_Batman:_ ** _They are all pregnant._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Fuck you._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Did the version of us in that universe get revenge against the fathers._

 **_Batman:_ ** _Do you even need to ask._

_**Buttman:** …No._

_**Batman:** Father, singular. It was Clark. Apparently that is the universe where Kryptonians practiced harem-style relationships on their home planet. Clark discovered this fact upon going into rut and impregnating all Batman’s children in one frenzied night of lust and madness._

**_Buttman:_ ** _WHAT SEND ME THERE I MUST CASTRATE HIM THIS SHALL NOT STAND_

_**Batman:** It is not what you are thinking. The girls all volunteered, to save Clark’s life and because they all had enormous crushes on him. And once he was rescued from being lost in time and stopped furiously attacking Clark long enough for the situation to be explained to him, that Batman held a Kryptonite spear to Clark’s back throughout the wedding. _

**_Buttman:_ ** _…_

_**Batman:** It was a beautiful group ceremony. The girls all had to use nerve strikes to break Batman’s grip and make him let go of them when the time came for him to give away the brides._

**_Buttman:_ ** _…_

_**Batman:** Alfred cried. While knitting copious amounts of booties for the numerous incipient babies. Ma Kent baked over a hundred pies, and Batman didn’t get any because his many pregnant daughters claimed them all._

**_Buttman:_ ** _…_

 **_Batman:_ ** _Go talk to your kids._

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Okay._

*

“I feel like a fool,” Damian hisses, hand creeping up once more toward his face.

“Quit picking at it!” Dick intercepts Damian’s hand and pushes it gently back down. “You’ll smear the ink!”

Jason chuckles. “Naw, that shit’s dry by now.” He looks Damian full in the face and bursts out laughing again. Damian starts to reach up to cover his face self-consciously, and Tim sighs. _This isn’t helping._

“Shut up, Jay.” He turns to Damian, attempting an encouraging smile. “He’s just being an asshole. We _all_ look ridiculous right now, and this is for a good cause so you shouldn’t feel bad.”

Damian lifts his chin, frowning. “You need not attempt to _reassure_ me, Drake, I do not require it.” But his hand slowly lowers to his side and he relaxes infinitesimally at the older boy’s words. Tim hides a stupidly fond smile, and Dick has to visibly restrain himself from hugging them both.

Jason claps his hands together, cracking his knuckles, clearly hiding his excitement at the approaching confrontation. Worries about a compromised Batman aside, Jay’s obvious delight at a chance to troll Bruce is almost enough to lighten Tim’s mood.

 _God this family is so screwed up._ Tim meets his boyfriend’s eyes and can’t resist Jason’s rakish grin, feeling the corners of his mouth tug up as Jay spins on his heel and stalks forward. “Okay, everybody ready? Good. Let’s get this shitshow on the road!”

And the four of them troop down the stairs to the Cave, where Not-Bruce has been brooding quietly since they entered the Manor. It’s actually the best impression of actual Bruce’s normal behavior the fraud has managed to date; if he had just stuck to doing _that_ the whole time instead of all this reaching-out-to-the-kids business, they might never have caught on to the imposture.

It’s been a stressful few days, and the tired, worried set of his brothers’ faces when they think no one is watching is starting to truly worry Tim. Both Dick and Damian reported all of Bruce’s interactions with them have continued to be… _off,_ but the motivation for the impersonation is still frustratingly unclear.

And the man has approached Tim and Jason several times since they first observed a marked change in his behavior, always during activities unrelated to the night work, asking about their _schoolwork_ of all things.

He and Jay actually had a really great discussion about the role of social judgement and feminism in Austen’s work, leading to an in-depth analysis of Jason’s dissertation that left Jay keyed up, ranting to Tim afterwards about class and gender bias prevalence in modern society, and how _furious_ Jay is that some asshole impersonating Bruce managed to show more interest in Jason in a few hours than the real Bruce has bothered with in the past few _years._

It’s weird. It’s _really_ weird. Whoever managed to compromise Bruce must be some insane combination of genius and skill to even get _close enough_ to the man behind the Bat to subvert or impersonate him, and yet also stupid and shortsighted enough to completely fail to understand anything about how the man behaves in his personal life. Unless Tim’s latest pet theory is correct and all those little signs of _wrongness_ are actually the real B, trying desperately to get a message out by throwing up every red flag he can grasp in his weakened state.

Tim’s looking forward to getting his questions answered today, after Bruce’s explosive reaction to their current attire and accessories hopefully shakes him loose from the mind control long enough to give them some real data on the situation.

Not-Bruce turns around in his chair at the Batcomputer as the four boys approach, his initial inquiring look freezing into one of abject horror at the sight which confronts him.

His aghast gaze travels across Tim’s numerous fake piercings, which now include a lip ring, nose ring, eyebrow rings, and a very visible fake tattoo in elegant Chinese characters on his right forearm. Tim hides a grin at Not-Bruce’s obvious wince; it looks like he noticed the kanji translate to ‘dumb American’.

“The tattoo artist told me it means ‘courage in adversity’!” Tim beams, showing off the ink, and Not-Bruce visibly cringes.

_No way he won’t react to this, if he has any control at all!_

But Not-Bruce just jerks a nods at Tim, murmurs a quiet greeting, and turns his attention to Jason.

_Shit. Hmm, maybe it’s because he already saw me with some piercings earlier, so the shock value is gone. Well, hopefully one of the others is outrageous enough to push him past the theoretical emotional shock threshold and let him escape the mind control, even if it’s only a brief respite…_

Jay gives Not-Bruce a devilish grin, raising his fake-pierced eyebrows, then sticks his tongue out and wiggles it to show off his fake tongue stud. His shirt is thin enough to clearly show the fake barbells through his nipples, and the gorgeous phoenix tattoo over his heart, flaming wings spreading out toward his shoulders.

Not-Bruce just blinks, an infinitesimal tightening around his eyes the only evidence of his reaction to Jason’s new look. “It is… good to see you, Jason.”

_Damn. This doesn’t bode well for my theory at all._

Tim exchanges a worried glance with Jason as Not-Bruce transfers his gaze to Dick, who smiles and waves.

“Hey B!” Dick says cheerily while Not-Bruce gulps and slowly turns red as he takes in the full glory of Dick’s attire. Well, lack thereof.

 _Promising. Maybe_ this _will be enough to break the hold on his mind…_

Dick’s wearing a crop top and tiny cutoff booty shorts, the better to show off his fake gem-encrusted bellybutton ring and the horrific but thankfully false portrait tattoos that now cover his thighs. Hideously detailed renderings of Damian and Jason glare out at the world from Dick’s left thigh, and Tim and Cass both appear quite disconcerted at their situation on his right thigh.

“I wanted to carry my family with me _everywhere!”_ Dick chirps happily, spinning in place to show off the rear view. “See? You’re in the back!”

Not-Bruce actually blanches visibly at the sight of Alfred, who looks inscrutable as always from his position on the back of Dick’s left thigh, and Babs and Steph smirking from the back of Dick’s right thigh.

“Oops, sorry, I forgot you’re up here,” Dick laughs as he tugs his cutoffs down, incidentally mooning Bruce and exposing the horrific sight of _Brucie’s vacantly grinning face_ apparently tattooed on Dick’s left ass cheek. The right cheek boasts a picture of a box of Crocky Crunch, and a tramp stamp in the shape of the Bat symbol completes the carnival of horrors on Dick’s skin.

“This way, I’ll always have reminders of the most important things in my life!” Dick pivots on his heel, smiling broadly as he pulls his shorts back up… not quite quickly enough to avoid giving Not-Bruce an eyeful of the fake S-shield tattoo tattooed on his lower abdomen, well below his bellybutton.

Not-Bruce chokes slightly, blanching in obvious dismay, then manages, “That’s great, Dickie. I’m… _proud…_ you have made a decision that… makes you so happy.” Somewhat desperately, he directs his harried gaze to Damian, and then completely freezes.

Tim presses his lips together to hide his smile. If nothing else, _this_ will absolutely show whether Bruce is still in there under the mind control or whatever.

_At least we’ll know for sure in the next minute, one way or the other._

Damian faces his father, shoulders back and standing straight to the full height of his fifteen years.

_I refuse to acknowledge the full height of Damian’s fifteen years is slightly greater than the full height of my twenty. Denial, don’t fail me now!_

Bruce’s eyes are fixed on Damian’s face.

They really hadn’t gone as over the top preparing Damian for this as they had for the older boys. Once they finished shaving his head and completed the full head and neck fake tattoo of the Batman cowl, topped with fake dermal horn implants colored to look like little bat ears, well.

It didn’t seem like there was anything else they could do to crown _that_.

Now Damian lifts his chin stubbornly, staring at Not-Bruce as Not-Bruce’s eyes glaze over and his fists clench so hard they’re trembling at his sides. “Have you nothing to say, Father?”

 _Damian is brave as fuck._ It’s something Tim realized before, of course, but never has he seen it demonstrated in quite so visceral a fashion. _I’m taking that kid out for breakfast tomorrow, and maybe help him rescue another puppy or something. He deserves it after pulling_ this _off._

“Damian,” Not-Bruce’s voice sounds choked. “What have you _done_ —I mean. I see you have… expressed yourself in… your own way. I didn’t… know you were interested in… permanent body art.” He swallows, still staring fixedly at Damian’s determined face, then wincing as though unable to look directly at him for long. “I didn’t know _any_ of you were interested in permanent body art.”

“How does this make you feel, Bruce?” Tim asks carefully. It really doesn’t seem like his plan is going to pay off, unfortunately, but he has to at least _try_. Maybe with a little prompting, the real Bruce can still break through.

Not-Bruce stares at him, a hunted, slightly desperate look in his eyes. “I love you all and will support and care for you no matter what.”

_Shit. No dice._

Not-Bruce’s eyes flick to Tim’s unfortunate tattoo, Dick’s belly button piercing, Jason’s nipple barbells, and catch for a long moment on Damian’s full-face tattoo and extremely identity-compromising implants before he winces, then opens his eyes again, sincerity pouring from every line of his body. _“No matter what,_ do you understand?” He swallows before continuing awkwardly. “What’s important is you are all… happy. So. Good… job. We should… have a movie night. Do you boys want to skip patrol and watch a movie with me?” And he looks pained, but hopeful.

Tim winces internally. _Welp, that’s it I guess. Obviously he can’t quite break through, and he needs us to help him._

Ignoring the dull pain at the insidious, whispering part of his mind that _wants_ to keep Bruce like this, wishes so _badly_ for a father to love him, Tim makes eye contact with Jason.

He frowns as Jay gives an infinitesimal shake of his head. _What’s he waiting for? The plan failed, so now we need to just bring the guy down and do this the hard way. What’s the point of prolonging the inevitable?_

But Jason’s wearing his shit-eating grin, and Tim mentally shrugs and sits back to watch the show. There’ll be plenty of time to take Not-Bruce down after whatever Jason has in mind.

“Hey guys, maybe we can still shock him enough to break the mind control!” Jason sounds way too happy. “This is our chance to say and do anything we want, and he’ll hafta _thank_ us later for tryin’ to help him out!”

 _Wait what. Great, way to give away our knowledge to the enemy Jay. And oh my_ god, _what are you planning to say?_

Not-Bruce jerks, startled, and Dick and Damian both turn to glare accusingly at Jason for spilling the beans.

“Jaybird wait—” Dick’s bellybutton jewelry sparkles, catching the light as he moves.

But Jason’s on a roll and he’s not stopping. “Hey B, ya ever think about how Damian's _literally_ the fruit of your _mother_ fuckin' loins?” He chortles. _“Get it?_ Because you fucked his mothe—”

“How _dare_ you speak about my mother in that manner—” The full face cowl tattoo acts to intensify Damian’s glare into a thing of terror as Not-Bruce just stares mutely at Jason, blinking rapidly in apparent horror.

 _Huh, he kind of looks like a robot now. Maybe Jay’s mouth_ will _be all we need to save B, I mean, his mouth_ is _pretty amazing. Oh god why did I think that, that sounded_ wrong _in this context_ , _gross, self. Also…_

“Ugh Jason don't say the word loins with respect to B. Actually, don't ever use that word again.”

“I'm just tryin' to help!” Tim glares at Jason, who smirks and shrugs, the shit-stirrer.

They all turn to look at Not-Bruce, who’s still just staring at them with a slightly forlorn, lost expression, the corners of his mouth tugging minutely downward.

“You boys don’t want to watch a movie?” And his voice sounds so small, and _sad._

_Damn it, this sucks._

Tim sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You're just goading him at this point, Jay. Clearly he's incapable of overthrowing the mind control, no matter how great the shock. It would be cruel to keep pushing this.”

“You sure about that, Baby?” And that _voice,_ the look on Jason’s face, that dark, _hungry_ expression…

 _Oh holy_ shit _Jason’s really gonna—_

Tim’s train of thought comes to an abrupt halt as his boyfriend of three years sweeps him up in his strong arms, planting a thick, hard thigh in between his legs and pressing him in _tight_ as he takes his lips in a fierce, _claiming_ kiss and dips him so low he thinks the tips of his hair might be brushing the ground. His head is spinning and gravity loses its hold on him as his senses fill with _Jason._

Whimpering, Tim can’t do anything but respond to the proximity and _heat_ , his arms clasping around Jason’s big, broad shoulders as Jay lazily plunders his mouth, hips twitching slightly with repressed need. He’s completely supported by Jason’s firm, careful grip on his body, feeling safe and surrounded by the man he loves and trusts more than anything. He gives himself up to the kiss, reciprocating enthusiastically and lifting one leg to wrap around Jason’s hips. _Mmm so good, Jason…!_

Dimly, Tim is aware of horrified exclamations and shouts in the background, as well as the unmistakable sound of Dick whining in utmost horror.

By the time Jason easily swings him back up to standing, a satisfied, proud smirk on his handsome face, Tim’s pretty sure he’s forgotten his middle _name,_ let alone whatever the hell they’re all doing in the Cave. He blinks, dazed, and Jason gently tucks him into his side and presses a soft, careful kiss to the top of his head.

“Wow,” Tim whispers once he’s recovered the ability to speak, flushed and stunned and still reeling from that _kiss,_ hot damn.

Not-Bruce is staring at them with his mouth hanging open slightly, a reaction of _supreme_ shock from the normally stoic, controlled man. His expression is _incredibly_ strained as he says, “Oh. _Oh.”_ He swallows, looking like he’d rather fight his entire rogue gallery at once than be here at this moment. _“_ It’s… _good_ that you two are… doing… _that._ I’m… proud? Of you both. For whatever. This. Is.” He trails off into silence, with the haunted expression of an extremely traumatized man, and avoids eye contact with any of his sons.

Jason regards Not-Bruce with a cocky grin, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and tightening a possessive arm over Tim’s shoulders. “That _do it_ for ya, B? Or do I gotta give you more of a show? You wouldn't believe how fuckin' pretty Timmy is when I take—”

Dick slams a hand over Jason's mouth, whimpering. “No more, nothing's worth having to listen to _this.”_ He gags slightly. “Let’s just take him down.”

 _Well, this plan clearly isn’t working anyway. If even me and Jay coming out to him didn’t do it,_ nothing _is going to shock Bruce into throwing off the conditioning. God I hope he doesn’t remember any of this later, he’s probably going to be such a_ dick _about the dating thing otherwise…_

Shrugging, Tim meets Jason’s eyes, catching his agreeable shrug, and Damian frowns before signaling his acknowledgement.

Dick and Damian bring Not-Bruce down together and immobilize him nearly instantaneously with Dick’s escrima and the Bat-approved cuffs while Tim and Jason move to secure the Cave in case he has any traps or backup measures in place they weren’t able to detect remotely. They’re busy enough Tim almost manages to resist thinking about where the hell Dick was hiding the cuffs and escrima in _that_ outfit. _Almost._

Not-Bruce just goes limp, an expression on his face that looks nearly _resigned._

_Welp, off to run a crapload of tests to find out who the hell did this and how we can undo it._

Tim finds himself kind of wishing once again this were really Bruce. A movie night sounds like fun. And stuttering horror is probably the best possible reaction he could hope to get from B to the news he and Jay are a couple.

 _Stupid mind control. Stupid evil villain being a better dad than the actual B. What the fuck even, I_ definitely _need more coffee to deal with this._

*

“He’s clean,” Tim whispers disbelievingly, staring at Bruce as though even now, reams of test results displayed before him all supporting Bruce’s sanity, autonomy, and general uncompromised status, he still expects Bruce to suddenly peel off his face and attack them all.

Jason scowls thunderously. “I don’t believe it, it ain’t him. Or…” His tense frown looks worried now. “Fuck, how old _is_ B, anyway? He’s gettin’ up there, and his life ain’t been none too gentle. All those blows to the head…” His concerned teal eyes fix on Bruce anxiously, and Bruce experiences the odd sensation of simultaneously wanting to smack his son upside the head, and hug the breath out of him.

“I did not have a stroke, nor do I suffer from chronic traumatic encephalopathy.” With difficulty, Bruce manages to suppress the spontaneous spasmodic twitching of his right eye which frequently occurs when Jason is talking. “I am not brain damaged, Jason.”

“How would _you_ know, you’re the one who’s been actin’ all loopy, B.”

Bruce’s eye begins to twitch. He is saved from having to reply or defend himself by Dick, whose face just lit up after reading something on the screen of his phone.

“Hey guys, Babs just texted she managed to finally unlock the data on that suspicious phone! Maybe it’ll explain some things so we can get to the bottom of this.” Dick says brightly, entering something into his phone in reply.

 _Of course they noticed the multiversal phone. Although it is…_ odd _that Barbara was apparently unable to break the encryption immediately; the phone has the same level of protection as the Batcomputer, with which she is eminently familiar._

The train of thought derails as Bruce’s eyes catch once more on the fake Bat symbol tattoo on his eldest’s lower back and he needs all his focus to urgently suppress the memory of the tattoo of _his face_ on Dick’s _posterior._

_Based on the boys’ discussions, I suspect all of their… body art… is false, and merely intended to gauge my reactions or shock me into letting something slip. Thank God. I’d go through the indignity and discomfort of processing, disinfecting, scanning and interrogation a thousand times over if by so doing I could prevent my sons from making horrible life choices like those._

He glances at Damian, and shudders. _I cannot_ wait _until he washes that off._ He refuses to allow himself to consider the unlikely possibility any of it is actually real.

The boy’s eyes are fixed on his oldest brother, who is still staring at the phone in his hand, jaw dropped and brows raised in an expression of almost comical astonishment. “Is it some hitherto undetectable form of mind control? Quickly, Grayson, tell us who _dared_ to subjugate Father! It is not breaking Father’s rule if we merely mutilate the foul miscreant.”

Jason snorts a laugh. “Just a little light mutilation, huh? To the _pain_ , right Demon Brat? Fuckin’ harsh. I like it.”

Bruce recognizes that quote; Dick as a child begged him to sit through that movie every time the boy was benched for being sick, and Bruce has numerous vivid memories of watching the terrible special effects, sappy romance, absurd fencing scenes, and idiotically ridiculous denouement over and over again with a limp, feverish child draped across his chest giggling along happily to the onscreen antics.

He’d loved every moment of it. How had he forgotten how _precious_ that time with his children is? How had he allowed himself to _miss_ so many of those moments with Tim and Damian, push the others away, and lose sight of the most important things in his _life?_

_No more. I won’t miss any more. Starting now._

“No severing hands or feet, Damian, certainly no blinding anyone, and under absolutely no circumstances are you to remove any noses or tongues.” Damian’s brows fly up in quickly hidden delight that Bruce recognized the quote, and Jason just grins.

Dick is snorting now, bubbling laughter covering his attempts to talk, so he holds the phone out helplessly toward Tim, who takes it and reads quickly, eyes flickering across the screen as his brows climb and his lips begin to twitch.

“What? What is it, Timmers?” Jason leans down close and begins reading over Tim’s shoulder, chortling a moment later. _“Buttman?!_ Oh _fuck_ yeah, that’s awesome, but… what the hell _is_ this shit? The fuck is he texting with himself, are we dealing with some multiple personality bullshit?”

 _“What?_ What are you babbling about, Todd?” Damian attempts a nerve-strike to force Tim into dropping the phone, but is obstructed when Jason picks Tim up and holds him close despite his protests, blocking Damian’s attacks. “Curse you, Todd!”

Tim wiggles halfheartedly. “Jay, put me down!”

“But you’re comfy in my arms, Baby.”

 _What._ Bruce rapidly forces back his initial visceral protest; this can’t possibly be as it appears. The boys are excellent actors, after all; they clearly decided earlier the sight of two of his sons _kissing_ would be sufficient to combat whatever brainwashing they imagined affected him, and now, for reasons unknown, they are… continuing the pretense? Bruce briefly contemplates these conflicting data points, then disregards the matter as unimportant. _For now._

“Look,” Tim says, rapidly keying something into the phone and then directing their attention to the Batcomputer.

Jason’s eyes widen as all of Bruce’s conversations with the Other Bruce begin scrolling past on the screen. “…Whoa.”

Bruce winces as Other Bruce’s descriptions of the world where most of his sons are in a polyamorous relationship with Roy Harper flash across the screen.

 _“Oh my god,”_ Dick whispers. “What. The. Hell.”

Tim stares, apparently briefly stunned, and then tilts his head consideringly as his magnificent mind begins to process the information on the screen and extrapolate and interpolate a sequence of events using the available data. “Okay, so I think this whole mess actually makes a lot of sense now.” His lips begin to twitch, and then he starts to chuckle, and a moment later he’s laughing out loud, seemingly unable to stop.

Jason stares somewhat helplessly at the convulsing man in his arms. “Uh, Timbo? You okay there, Baby Bird?”

Damian eyes Tim carefully, likely trying to decide whether or not his brother is compromised now as well.

Bruce sighs, wishing the boys had chosen to release him from the Bane-level incarceration system he’s still strapped into, although he can’t suppress the little curl of pride at their excellent threat response and criminal restraint tactics.

Tim finally manages to stop laughing and speak again. “Other Bruce,” he whispers, grinning maniacally. “Not sure yet exactly _how_ he got a multiversal phone to B, but that’s who B’s been texting with on this phone. And holy _shit,_ he _played Bruce.”_

Tim rapidly types into his phone, and the screen of the Batcomputer populates with the files Other Bruce sent over, including documentation of his impromptu visit to another universe and the encounter there.

“Um,” Dick says, scrunching up his face and folding his arms over his chest as he scans the information laid out before them. “Details, please.”

Tim sighs, apparently now resigned to being held princess-style in Jason’s arms, and explains. “It looks like the Bruce from Other Tim’s universe kidnapped B and yelled at him for being an asshole to us. Um, the other universe people were super-protective of Other Tim, and I think Other Bruce maybe decided to share his parenting skills with our B. Ah, forcefully.” He glances at the screen again, brows climbing once more. “With his fists.”

Damian blinks, then nods slowly, brows furrowing slightly as he contemplates this new information. “It makes sense. That _is_ one of Father’s preferred means of communication.”

Bruce just stares, then shakes his head to clear it. “Boys, I apologize for causing all this trouble. I _knew_ how you would react if I changed my behavioral patterns, but chose to effect substantial changes in our relationships despite the risk of triggering your training.”

Jason snorts. “So you just decided, what, fuck it, and went ahead and did it anyway?”

Bruce shrugs mutely, then replies. “I considered the end result to be worth the potential consequences. And there was always the possibility you would accept the changes without assuming anything nefarious was afoot.”

The boys look at one another, and Dick gives him a lopsided, hesitant smile. “So, the past few days… were real?” He sucks in a small breath when Bruce’s chin dips in a nod. _“Oh,”_ he breathes, a disbelieving, hopeful expression on his face. Bruce feels a pain in his chest and knows he will be doing his utmost in the coming days, months and years to live up to the hope he sees right now on his oldest son’s face.

There's a click, and Bruce realizes he's been freed from the restraints. He glances over at Tim, who gives him a small smile and nods. 

Bruce shifts slightly on his feet, shoulders tense but knowing he must drive himself past his own discomfort for the sake of his children. “I will continue to contact and approach each of you regularly over the coming weeks, and moving forward. I want to… no, I _need_ to speak with each of you, one on one, and listen to what you have to say.” His lips tighten and he regards them seriously. “I want to get to know you, and be there for each of you in a way I have failed in the past.”

Tim looks at Bruce uncertainly, his eyes sliding to Jason for a moment, and the two appear to carry on an entire conversation without moving.

 _Oh._ As he watches them, unable to miss the emotional connection and intimacy clearly displayed between the two, Bruce is forced to acknowledge this may be more than a prank. _Surely not._ He clears his throat. “Your acting skills have improved.”

Jason glances at him, brows drawn together in confusion. “What acting skills?”

“The skills you displayed while pretending to be in a romantic entanglement with Tim. Good idea to use that as a test of my reactions. But you can stop now.” He watches with a sinking feeling of dismay as Jason’s grip tightens on the young man in his arms and he begins glaring fiercely at Bruce.

Tim flushes, looking like he wants to hide his face in Jason’s chest. “Um, B, we weren't pretending,” he whispers faintly, a nervous expression taking over his face before he shutters it.

 _Oh God why._ “What. How long.” Perhaps this is some kind of emotional response to Bruce’s recent actions; the boys are upset, and confused, and turned to each other for comfort-

Jason snorts. “More than three years.”

Or not.

Under his breath, Jason mutters something that sounds a lot like, “Fuckin’ world’s greatest detective my ass.” Bruce chooses to ignore it.

“And you have been hiding it from everyone all this time?” His initial surprise and dismay is fading the longer he observes the two together; both appear completely comfortable and content in their interactions. Looking back, he realizes the increased stability in Jason’s life and improved self-care habits and balance between work and other activities in Tim’s life date to approximately three years ago.

“Well really just from you.” Tim has the decency to look guilty, but as Bruce considers, he realizes had he learned of this development three years ago, when Jason was only just making tentative steps to work with the Bats again, his reaction would have been highly negative based on the volatile history between the two. He would have intervened, to protect Tim from Jason’s inevitable rage and Jason from the damaging effects of the triggering nature of his perception of Tim.

And apparently, he would have been wrong to do so, instead depriving both boys of a relationship which has somehow healed and helped them both where he failed, right under his oblivious nose.

_Wait, they didn’t just hide this from me… Dick sounded absolutely stunned and appalled when they kissed earlier. At least I have company in my ignorance._

“And Dick. Clearly he didn't know before, based on his dramatic reaction this evening.”

Tim starts giggling. “Oh he's known all along, we think his mind is just a little broken on the issue.”

“Hey!” But Dick is smiling, obviously not actually offended.

“I have never understood your objection to their attachment; since they first initiated their copulation, their personal habits have stabilized or improved, their closure rate for cases has increased, and they have both grown marginally less irritating. And their argument against the accusation of incest, that they never cohabited in the same home or even met prior to their late teens, is convincing."

Bruce blinks, but the image before him remains the same. Damian, _defending his least favorite brothers._

 _I had not realized how much this family has grown up without me._ He feels a swell of undeserved pride, knowing it is none of his own doing that his youngest has grown so much over the years. Glancing at Dick, he sees the reflection of the same pride he feels in his eldest’s eyes, and experiences a rush of gratitude for Dick, who has been there in his stead when the younger boys stumbled. _I am sorry, son. I will do better, for all of you._

And Dick is laughing, shaking his head. “It isn't that, Dami. I think I'd react the same way to either of them having PDAs with _anyone_. They're my _little brothers_ , the last thing I want to think about or see is them getting it on! It'll probably be the same with you, once you turn thirty and start dating.” He smiles sunnily.

Damian frowns. “Wait, _thirty_ —”

Bruce turns matters over in his mind, tuning out the ensuing squabble during which Damian’s katana, Jason’s quips, Tim’s bo, and Dick’s octopus-like ability to capture all of his brothers in a death grip disguised as a hug all make an appearance.

The relationship actually makes sense, on some level. Watching Tim blush and shyly tug Jason's hand away from where it had been attempting to insinuate itself beneath the hem of Tim's shirt, Bruce finds a modicum of solace.

It could be worse.

At least Tim curbs Jason's exhibitionist tendencies, unlike Star Sapphire Dick in the other universe, whose own sense of showmanship combined disastrously with Jason’s complete lack of shame and led to such horrors as indecent wrestling displays in the Cave and lap-sitting at the dinner table.

Tim’s shyness and sense of propriety are excellent qualities for which Bruce is suddenly very grateful. The two have managed to hide their relationship for three years now, so it is unlikely he will experience the horrific embarrassment of stumbling across the pair compromising each other on a rooftop on patrol or defiling Tim’s desk at Wayne Enterprises.

As he weighs the pros and cons of the revealed relationship, Bruce is surprised to arrive at the realization he tentatively approves. Of course, he will need to observe the two interacting together further, and verify they are both well treated and happy; however, he can adjust the plan to include time for that.

Bruce thinks about the universe where Dick and Jason were together, and the ones where the majority of his sons were dating each other and _adopted by Oliver Queen_ , or romantically entangled with supervillains, or _pregnant_ by _superman._

It could always be worse.

He clears his throat. “Congratulations, Tim. Jason. I am… happy for you both.”

They both stare at him, wide-eyed, clearly having expected a very different reaction from him.

Over three years… Bruce frowns, chasing a memory. “Wait… That means…” His mouth drops open slightly as his eyes widen and he continues to speak slowly, already dreading the conclusion which is forming in his mind. “The time Jason borrowed the Batmobile, and it returned covered in semen, that—” he breaks off in horror, feeling the blood drain from his face as Tim squeaks in appalled embarrassment and Jason roars with laughter.

“Oh fuck, I totally forgot about that!”

“Wait, you guys did _what?”_

“Father, I hope you burned that Batmobile! Todd, how _dare_ you defile Father’s vehicle with your filthy emissions!”

“Hey, Demon, those weren’t just _my_ filthy fuckin’ emissions—”

“Oh my god Jason please _stop talking about our emissions!”_

Bruce sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He can't suppress the smile as all the boys burst into excited chatter, teasing and speaking over each other.

Tim is blushing to the tips of his ears, dark head tucked firmly into Jason’s chest to hide his face, and Jason brushes a soft kiss to the top of his head before he sees Bruce looking and gives him a shit-eating grin. “Yo, Buttman! Thanks for lettin’ me borrow your car to go on a date with my boyfriend! It was a real sweet _ride,_ if you know what I mean.” He dissolves into chortling laughter as Tim whines in his arms and Dick gags, prompting Damian to move away in case he actually vomits in disgust.

_Why did I ever have children again?_

Damian scoffs and steps away from his now-tousling brothers, who are wrestling again over god knows what this time, Tim’s cries of objection ignored as he’s squished in the middle while Dick tries to give Jason a noogie and Jason attempts to get a firm enough hold of the booty shorts in order to give his older brother a wedgie. A shrill cry a moment later, followed by Jason’s malicious laughter and Tim’s snickering indicates the boy was successful in his endeavor.

Bruce looks at Damian, glancing away quickly, pained by the glaring tattoo on the boy's face. Not to mention the miniature horns. _I am_ certain _those are false, but just to be safe…_ He clears his throat. “So. Your new interest in permanent body art.”

Damian shakes his head, frowning slightly. “Custom temporary tattoos. I designed them all based on our ideas and we applied them in my room earlier today. The body jewelry is false as well, with the exception of several of Drake’s.”

_Oh thank God. Wait, several of Drake’s…?_

“Which ones.” As long as it isn’t the facial piercings… a nose, eyebrow and lip piercing would provide extremely tempting targets in a fight, not to mention being the most difficult to conceal should Tim ever choose to return to Wayne Enterprises. Bruce finds himself concocting a detailed plan to render facial piercings popular and acceptable business attire, should Tim’s prove to be real… He will not allow his son to be ostracized or shamed for his perfectly legitimate choices.

“A few of the piercings in his ears are genuine, I know not which ones.”

_Oh, that is fine then. I can absolutely live with that. And of course he is intelligent enough to remove them prior to patrol or engaging in combat to eliminate any risk of giving his opponents a dangerous advantage. Thank heavens._

Bruce experiences a sensation of relief so profound he nearly falls to his knees at the confirmation his oldest son does _not,_ in fact, have a series of hideous and very regrettable tattoos adorning his skin, his second son hasn’t added a series of piercings to his face and nipples which could prove dangerous vulnerabilities during combat, his third son has a reasonable number of adornments with which he has chosen to express himself, and his youngest has _not,_ thankfully, permanently compromised his ability to interact in normal society with a black as night full facial tattoo and implants that permanently mark him with the appearance of _Batman._

_I can’t believe they actually shaved his head, though. I see now I really worried all of them with this._

A warm feeling swells up in his chest and he reaches out a hand to gently stroke Damian’s roughly stubbled head. _Well, it will grow back in time._

Damian looks up at him cautiously, and he smiles down at the boy who opens his mouth, then closes it, before clearly deciding to throw caution to the wind and speak his mind.

“Father, if at some point I wanted to actually…” The boy dips his chin and draws his brows together, speaking quickly. “Of course it would be in a far more concealable location, and…”

Bruce tilts his head. _Does he mean…?_

“Damian, are you telling me you would like to have a real tattoo someday?”

Damian swallows, nodding. “Despite your arguments over the years regarding the potentially compromising status of permanent markers such as piercings or tattoos, we are none of us 'clean canvases', Father, and I do not see how a few additional marks of our own choice would have any more negative consequence than the numerous scars with which we are each already painted.”

Bruce feels it like an unexpected blow to the chest, the reminder that each of his children bears external scars as well as emotional. Of course they would want a chance to reclaim the canvas of their own bodies. He gently pulls an unresisting Damian into his side and clumsily presses him close. “You can have a tattoo when you turn eighteen.”

The boy pulls back indignantly. “Father, I am not a _child!”_

Bruce smothers a laugh which he knows will not endear him to his haughty son. “Just think of it this way. That gives you three years to design it.” He smirks.

As he looks down at his speechless son, he realizes the others have fallen silent and are staring at him with something like approval on their faces.

He feels the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile, then narrows his eyes as movement draws his attention to one of the cameras in the corner of the Cave.

_What in the world…?_

Gesturing to his sons, who have noticed his reaction and are all now alert and poised for action, he moves to investigate.

*

“Oh _snap,_ he saw!” Popcorn falls out of Steph’s open mouth as she jerks backward in the plush theater-style seat as Bruce on the screen looks _directly at the camera_ and _glares_.

Cass pats her arm gently, attempting to reassure the alarmed blonde. “Fine.”

“What, like he _isn’t_ going to yell at us for spying on him for our own devious amusement?” Steph looks skeptical and Babs leans forward, drawing both of their attention.

The redhead isn’t concerned in the slightest at the new development, setting her tablet aside and taking the last of the popcorn from the bowl just as Alfred enters with three new bowls of freshly popped, buttery goodness in a display of his usual omniscience. “Bruce _really_ doesn’t have a leg to stand on there, sweetie. I don’t think he actually knows what personal boundaries _are,_ so chances are he won’t even notice his have been violated. And if he does, well, turnabout’s fair play.” She smirks wickedly.

Munching her popcorn, she settles back comfortably in her chair and watches on the large screen as the agitated swarm of Bats retreats from the Cave after presumably tracing the errant signal to the private theater located within the Manor.

 _Here come the fireworks. But I definitely have no regrets, and_ all _the blackmail material._

Steph still looks uncomfortable, so Cass takes her hand. Alfred clears his throat. “Please refrain from alarming yourself, Miss Stephanie. I assure you, so long as I am present nothing untoward shall happen to you.” And indeed, his stoic and perfectly competent presence seems to reassure the younger girl like nothing Babs or Cass might have said.

At that moment, the door bursts open and Bruce and the boys all pile into the room, varying expressions of stunned astonishment on their faces as they sheepishly begin lowering the weapons in their hands.

“Barbara.” Bruce says, blinking from Cass to Steph and finally back to Babs. “What.”

She laughs, unable to help herself. It’s rare to see the _Batman_ with such a bewildered, confused expression on his face. Dick and Tim are staring at her with dawning, indignant realization rising on their faces, and Jason’s reaching for one of the extra bowls of popcorn and settling into an empty seat, dragging a willing Tim down in his lap. Cass reaches for an embarrassed-looking Damian, who is trying to hide his face again, and pulls him into the seat next to her, stroking his cheek to silently communicate her love and approval.

_It’s good she’s back. These boys are helpless without her, I mean, just look at what a hilarious mess they made of this._

“Babs,” Dick says carefully. “You… decrypting the phone…!”

She nods, trying for an apologetic expression which she suspects isn’t working. “Yeah, I was stringing you along on that, and kept the data on the Batcomputer hidden from your searches until just now. I hacked the Batcomputer the minute I got the original alert from you, and the first thing I found when I went looking was a load of data from Other Tim’s universe including a very interesting plan to mend relationships in the family.”

Bruce doesn’t facepalm, but it looks like it’s a near thing. Babs grins at his twitching hand and the pained expression on his face. “Before I decided what to do about it, Cass called me and told me not to interfere.”

Five stunned pairs of eyes swing around to Cass. _“Why,”_ Tim says plaintively. “We’ve been wasting so much time worrying about this! All those meetings and calls with each other, planning the confrontations… Jay and I _came out_ to _B_ over this!”

As Cass allows the silence to extend, the smile on her face slowly growing, realization eventually dawns on her brother’s face. “Oh,” he whispers. “You… expected that to happen? Us to work together, and get closer… B to accept us?”

She nods, face lighting up. “Family. Proof.”

Seeing the others don’t understand yet, Babs interjects. “She told me you guys wouldn’t believe B had a change of heart unless he proved it to you, and what better way than enduring everything you’d throw at him in your paranoia and suspicion? I mean, that man endured a full Bat-level interrogation and identity verification for you, including cavity search.”

Everyone winces at the memory of _that_ particular test.

“But… what if something had gone wrong? What if one of us went too far when we didn’t think it was him?” Dick sounds genuinely concerned, and Babs’ heart goes out to him.

“We were ready for that. Believe me, I had eyes on you guys at all times, and not just for the blackmail footage. If anyone had shown signs of taking things too far, Cass or Steph would have been there in minutes and I would have intervened instantaneously over comms.”

“Pennyworth, were you in on these machinations as well?” Damian is eying the butler with respect.

Alfred twinkles down at his youngest grandson. “Of course, Master Damian. Miss Barbara informed me immediately, although I had already observed the changes myself and ascribed them to Master Bruce experiencing something of a midlife crisis. I certainly agreed with her assessment of the situation, considering _any_ attempt by Master Bruce to parent his children to be an improvement deserving of every encouragement.”

Jason guffaws so hard he chokes with laughter as Bruce slowly turns red with embarrassment. “Oh, fuck B, Alfie _always_ knows what’s up.”

Bruce directs a mild glare at his grinning son before frowning, turning to Cass. “Your case?”

She smiles, dimpling. “Finished early. Steph helped.”

He looks at Steph next, brows drawn together. “I have… to apologize…”

“Not now,” she cuts him off. “The popcorn’s still hot, everyone’s here, and my hypocritical bastard-slapping hand is busy putting more popcorn in my mouth. Let’s take a rain check, ‘kay? Because right now, I’m thinking movie night.”

Tim snorts, trying and failing to muffle his laughter at the shock on Bruce’s face, and Steph grins over at him, reaching up to high five him over Babs’ head as the others begin to loudly debate movie topics.

Babs watches as Dick springs over multiple seats, just barely beating Damian to start the movie of his choice, and Bruce observes the proceedings fondly, sinking into the open chair at the end of the row. Alfred quietly distributes the remaining bowls of popcorn and then departs, presumably to bring back more.

It isn’t perfect, and Babs knows there’s still a long way to go for these idiots to learn how to be there for each other in an emotionally healthy way.

But. She smiles, watching Tim curl into Jason’s chest as the light from the screen dances over their eyes, and she sees Cass and Steph holding hands on her other side as Damian and Dick catapult into their seats, still whispering back and forth heatedly about the choice for the next movie. When she glances over, Bruce is openly _smiling,_ and his attention definitely isn’t on the screen.

It isn’t perfect, but it’s a hell of a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Bruce, both paranoid and absolutely correct:** “Everyone’s out to get me!” *Attempts to camouflage self amongst bats in Cave to hide*  
>  **Other Bruce, snickering maliciously:** “No they’re not I swear, trust me I’m you!” *Fails to hold back uproarious laughter at blatant lie, obviously fiendishly enjoying Bruce’s predicament*  
>  **Bruce, uncharacteristically trusting:** “Oh okay, hi boys!” *Descends from perch amidst the bats to greet children*  
>  **Damian, sporting a whole faceful of ink and tiny horns:** “There he is! GET HIM!”  
>  **Bruce, shrieking in manly terror:** “AAAAA it’s Kiss fans!” *Ducks behind Batmobile to hide*  
>  **Jason, grinning devilishly:** “Oh hey Babe, remember when I fucked you on that thing?”  
>  **Tim, turning so red from embarrassment he passes out:** “…” *Swoons into Jason’s waiting manly arms*  
>  **Everyone else, varying degrees of horrified and shocked:** “JASON WTF”  
>  **Bruce, utterly mortified:** “OMG THAT MEANS I TOUCHED YOUR COMINGLED JIZZ”  
>  **Jason, torn between laughing at B’s pain and being seriously grossed out his batdad touched his spooge:** “…Dude”  
>  **Dick, crying and crawling away across the Cave floor:** “Why must you all torment me so. No, no, my brothers are all sweet little flowers, innocent and pure as the morning dew, they don’t have sex, of COURSE not…”  
>  **Bruce, gathering Dick into his arms:** “There there son. I share your pain” *Gives Dick all the belated cuddles*  
>  **Damian, furiously protective:** “Unhand him, imposter knave!” *Draws katanas threateningly, attempts to manhandle a protesting, clingy Dick away from Bruce*  
>  **Babs, interrupting:** “Oh hey guys, I, uh *cough* finally managed to get through the encryptions on that phone! Damn that was, uh, difficult to crack. It’s cool, B’s clean”  
>  **Everyone:** “Wait what”  
>  **Alfred pops up out of nowhere, eminently respectable and trustworthy:** “I agree with Miss Barbara. Care for some popcorn?”  
>  **Cass, appearing silently:** *Raises hand, accepts popcorn*  
>  **Bruce, relieved his terrible ordeal is finally over:** “Huzzah!”  
>  **Steph, grinning and eating popcorn:** “MOVIE NIGHT!!!” *Whispers menacingly to Bruce* “I’ll bitchslap you for your bullshit later"  
>  **Bruce, cringing but resigned:** “Fair enough”  
>  **Everyone else, settling into chairs and starting movie:** “Oh fuck yeah this shit was exhausting. Popcorn me, Alfie!”


	9. Chapter 9

Red Robin waits for Jayhawk’s signal to approach the abandoned tenement, excitement building at the strong suspicion the answers to all their questions regarding the Joker and this puzzling aphrodisiac epidemic will be found within.

At war with his curiosity and drive to solve the case is his ferocious protectiveness of his boyfriend, coupled with the desire to put a continent’s distance and an army of superheroes between Jayhawk and anything related to the Joker.

“Got ‘em,” Jayhawk breathes into the comms. “Window on the south side. And… _the FUCK.”_

 _“Jayhawk?!”_ Tim’s already moving before Jay has a chance to respond, adrenalin surging at the hair-raising possibilities jostling for position in his mind. _If Joker has him, if he_ hurts _him…_

“S’okay, Prettyboy, but you, uh. I think you’re gonna hafta see this shit for yourself.” And that’s definitely _confusion_ in Jay’s voice, not pain. Not fear.

Red’s heart thumps back into a normal rhythm as he lands beside Jay on the building opposite and finally has a view of what brought them here. And… _huh. That is not even_ remotely _what we were expecting. What. The. Actual. Fuck._

Oracle’s research showed an unmarked van which _might_ have contained the Joker pulling into the underground parking garage associated with this tenement during the time frame of the Arkham escape, but the footage she managed to recover was so spotty and compromised by whomever performed the bust that was all she could get them. No images of faces, no estimates of numbers.

Definitely nothing with even the barest _hint_ of an explanation for… _this._

Red Robin and Jayhawk just stand there in silence for a full minute, mouths hanging open and eyebrows flown up in shock, taking in the sight. The weird, _bizarre,_ super-disturbing sight.

Through the open window of the tenement, they watch as someone who looks a hell of a lot like _Dick Grayson_ wearing a _lavender bikini and tiara_ flits gracefully around the room, to all appearances even less constrained by gravity than the actual Dick Grayson. In fact, he appears to be _flying._ The man is laughing, smiling at someone who swaggers into view after a moment and-

_Wow._

Jayhawk whimpers in sheer horror and Red Robin sucks his breath in so sharply he starts coughing and gasping. _“Holy shit,”_ he squeaks eventually once he’s recovered a few shreds of his composure. “Oh my god.”

Within the tenement, Flying-Dick-in-a-Lavender-Bikini alights beside what appears to be _Jason in a skin-tight catsuit,_ takes him in his arms, and the pair begin enthusiastically _making out._ There’s a lot of tongue involvement, hands are _not_ in visible locations, and a discomfiting amount of moaning is happening.

“What the fuck,” Jayhawk whispers in disbelief. “What the fucking _fuck_ this shit is gonna give me nightmares _forever._ Are those clones. _Is this the bastard’s big plan? Fucking traumatize me with this fuckin’ creepy un-brotherly love bullshit?!”_

Red Robin reaches for his traumatized boyfriend, pulling him close for a quick moment of obviously much-needed reassurance before they check in with B and figure out a plan of attack for confronting these extremely inaccurate doppelgängers. Jay grasps him tightly and lowers his head for a hurried but heartfelt kiss.

When Tim opens his eyes again, he’s staring right into the startled blue eyes of Bikini-Dick, who is looking at him from across the way with an expression of growing concern quickly morphing into horror.

“Oh _no!”_ Bikini-Dick yelps, bursting out of the window and rushing through the air toward them, trailing glitter. He ignores Cat-Jay’s startled protests and only halts a few feet away from them to hover in the air, still staring at the pair in abject dismay. “Jason? _Tim?_ Sweet merciful _Batman,_ aren’t we all _brothers_ in this universe?! What have I _done?_ ” He sinks his fingers into his hair and begins tugging on it in distress, disturbing the sparkling tiara which now sits cockeyed on his lustrous black locks.

And that.

_Huh. Alternate universe, apparently._

Well, that actually makes a lot of sense in some ways, although it leaves a few glaring questions to be answered. _The multiverse is a varied, interesting, and occasionally terrifying place,_ Tim muses as he tries not to look too closely at the alternates’ strange, extremely revealing costumes. _Still not sure they’re friendly, but I guess we can approach them with caution until they show their true colors, one way or the other._

Meanwhile, Cat-Jay’s swinging over to join them on the rooftop, also looking back and forth between the pair in apparent dismay. “Oh _shit_ Dickiebird, did _we do this to them._ Oh fuck, _fuck,_ we gotta find a way to help ‘em! God _damn,_ I knew your Star Sapphire mojo was powerful as fuck, but fuckin’ _incest? Makin’ alterna-me kiss my own damn baby brother?_ Really, Sweets? I feel like that’s fuckin’ overkill, Jesus _fuck._ ”

Cat-Jay yanks his cowl back, revealing black hair and bright blue eyes, then runs his gloved fingers through his hair, beginning to pace jerkily as he mutters curses under his breath.

Bikini-Dick, who is apparently a _Star Sapphire what the fuck,_ actually wrings his hands in distress, lower lip trembling, eyes bright with tears. “I… I never had anything like this _happen_ before, Jay, I don’t know! I mean, maybe? But I was _sure_ the only bonds affected when we landed here were those between people who already _had_ a strong romantic attraction to each other. The pulse _really_ shouldn’t have supercharged bonds for anyone with just platonic, or familial bonds of love! I… it just doesn’t _work_ like that!”

“Oh fuck,” Jayhawk says, staring at the two alternates. “That was you guys. That was you? The fuckin’ mysterious aphrodisiac shit we’ve all been tearin’ our hair about for days. And it was just some kinda fuckin’ _accident?!”_

Of course, that is the moment Batman’s deep, gravelly voice speaks from _right behind Red Robin’s shoulder,_ where the huge, hulking man has somehow managed to creep up on him without anyone noticing, like the gigantic creepy creeper that he is and will always be. “It seems your universe was not sufficiently divergent after all, despite the multitude of evidence supporting that theory.” He frowns, staring into the middle distance. “Perhaps one where Batman doesn’t exist at all… I will need to research this before attempting any further in person meetings with individuals from Red Robin’s original universe.”

And with that litany of _wtf,_ Batman trails off into brooding silence, apparently lost in thought.

Star Sapphire Dick looks wildly back and forth between Batman and Red Robin and Jayhawk, who are still embracing. “Wait, Man-B, aren’t you going to _react_ to that? In this universe, they’re your _sons,_ and you’re just _okay_ with them suddenly being in a romantic relationship with _each other_?”

 _Man-B?_ Red Robin and Jayhawk exchange confused shrugs.

Batman tilts his head, scrutinizing Star Sapphire Dick. “Jayhawk is my son; Red Robin is more like a son-in-law, considering I did not actually meet him until he appeared in my universe as a near-adult. They have been involved in a romantic relationship with each other for several years now, with my full support and approval. You appear to be operating under a misapprehension—”

Cat-Jay interrupts. “Wait, so this is the less fucked-up alternate universe? Shit, we were sure we got pulled into the Asshole Man-B’s universe, ‘cause it was just after he fucked off back to his own universe that the random portal showed up in the Cave and sucked us through!”

 _Asshole Man-B. …Huh._ Every word out of these alternate’s mouths just seems to lead to a new plethora of questions Red’s not actually quite sure he wants answered.

Jayhawk and Red Robin’s heads whip back and forth between the visitors and Batman, and the certainty Red Robin is missing something _huge_ grows with every sentence.

Batman massages the bridge of his nose. “…So you were drawn here via a spontaneous portal after my visit to your universe. And you decided not to reveal yourself to Batman, _any_ Batman, to obtain assistance and return you home, _why?”_

Star Sapphire Dick has the audacity to grin and shrug. “Well, first of all, we thought you were Asshole Man-B, and he was likely to have his hands full groveling to his kids for all his horrible, horrible parenting fails after you dragged him to our universe and beat the crap out of him for being a bad batdad.”

_Oh my god._

Red Robin doesn’t even realize he spoke out loud until he notices everyone’s looking at him curiously, Batman with something like guilt in his eyes. “You… really?” He swallows around the lump in his throat.

Batman nods, reaching out hesitantly before gently clasping a hand on Red Robin’s shoulder. “I did not want to tell you until I was certain the results of my interference would be positive. No use getting your hopes up, or Red’s, if that version of me was too far gone for redemption. I… didn’t want either of you to be disappointed again.”

Red Robin feels the hot sting of tears. _Is the B in my universe being… nicer, now? More of a dad? Oh, wow. I really need to talk to Red._

Batman still looks worried, clearly concerned about how Red will react to his intervention. “I… understand. Um, thank you,” Red whispers, before finding himself just being _held_ for a minute by this more demonstrative version of the man who was his mentor. Even after three years here, it still takes his breath away and he finds himself closing his eyes.

After a few moments, Cat-Jay clears his throat. “Yeah, we, uh, didn’t wanna get in the way of _that_ shit. Figured you two Man-Bs had a plan or whatever, and didn’t wanna throw shit off or fuck things up by just showing up in the middle of all that.”

Star Sapphire Dick nods, smiling. “Also, as we were being sucked through the random portal that formed in the Cave right after Asshole Man-B left, our version of Tim was working at the Batcomputer and saw everything. He yelled after us, something about how he would have to wait a few days to come for us so the universes would have time to stabilize properly first.”

Batman nods. “He was correct; according to my calculations, any spontaneous portals forming due to interference between the two closely connected universes would result in further instability that would last at least twenty four hours, although most likely no more than seventy two hours.”

“So you guys figured you didn’t really need the Bats’ help here, since you knew someone from your universe would be lookin’ for you.” Jayhawk nods slowly, then frowns. “But we’re skipping stuff, like what the _fuck_ you guys were talking about earlier with the whole supercharged bonds, aphrodisiac mumbo-jumbo.”

Cat-Jay grins and looks pointedly at Star Sapphire Dick, who looks down, flushing with embarrassment. He clears his throat, finally sinking to land on the rooftop beside Cat-Jay. He crosses his arms over his exposed chest and looks down as he speaks. “Um, so the portal dropped me in what turned out to be the woods east of Wayne Manor, and…”

His voice falters, and he continues softly, wrapping his arms around himself more tightly. “I couldn’t see _Jay._ I thought… I thought I lost him.” He swallows. “In that moment, I was so terrified he might have been lost in the portal, maybe thrown somewhere else in the multiverse. I was scared I’d never see him again, that maybe he was somewhere _else,_ alone and needing me. I… well, I panicked.”

Star Sapphire Dick blinks rapidly, and Cat-Jay leans in, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and holding him tightly. “Shh, Sweets, ‘s okay. You’re safe, we’re both fuckin’ safe. Go on when you’re ready.”

The man inhales a long shuddering breath and nods, giving his boyfriend a tremulous smile before continuing. “I don’t know exactly what I did, and I’m not sure I could repeat it if I tried. What I do know is my panicking mind grabbed onto the power of my Star Sapphire ring, and _reached_ for Jason, pouring _all_ the power of my love and the ring combined into trying to find him, wherever he might be in the multiverse. It was…. a _phenomenal_ amount of energy, and I almost passed out channeling that much power.”

Star Sapphire Dick gives a shaky smile. “And if Jay had really been lost in the multiverse somewhere, I think I might actually have been able to establish a connection.”

“I was literally right behind you, Dickie. If you'd just _turned around_ before fuckin’ losin’ your damn mind, you’d’ve seen me,” Jay snorts, shaking his head fondly as he nuzzles Dick’s cheek, grinning when Dick ducks his head and smiles.

_Okay, I think I have an idea where this is going now…_

“And all the pent-up power? With your Jason right there, I’m assuming all the extra energy had to go _somewhere.”_ Red Robin watches Star Sapphire Dick, who nods hesitantly.

“Yeah, as best I can figure it, once the power I was sending out found Jay, it flooded the bond between us, and then spilled over into other romantic bonds in the vicinity. I think the area affected probably comprised most of Gotham.”

Batman stares at them. “You say your action would have affected those with romantic bonds, yet our observations indicated those in established, satisfactory relationships were immune.”

Star Sapphire Dick’s mouth drops open in surprise, and he shakes his head quickly. “Oh, no, they would _definitely_ have been affected. But, they might not have noticed? An established couple probably just would’ve gotten the strong urge to check on their significant other, seek them out, maybe call them, or go out on a date or something. I doubt they even would’ve realized anything unusual had happened.”

“People with unconfessed mutual crushes are the ones who would’ve borne the brunt of it; they would have felt all the overwhelming desperation and urgency I did in that moment, the sheer _need_ to find and be with their lover, but without the stability of a solid relationship to reassure themselves. They, uh, probably would’ve instinctively reached out to their crushes, confessing their love and just wanting to _hold_ them tight, to know they’re safe.”

Jayhawk’s eyes narrow. “So if it was all so innocent, how do you explain all the fuckin’ thugs makin’ out, and the smaller percentage of people who were going all aggressive and losin’ their shit? That your doing, too?”

Star Sapphire Dick shrugs. “That much emotional punch leaves a lot of pent up energy; I know _our_ adrenalin and hormones were raging for hours afterwards, and the obvious way to spend that energy, when you’re with the one you love, well… there you go. And as for the violence, well, this _is_ Gotham. People will take any excuse for a riot.”

Cat-Jay nods. “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure some of the fighting I saw was guys beatin’ up homophobes who were getting all pissy about the dudes on their crews makin’ out.”

Star Sapphire Dick looks at Cat-Jay in surprise, and he shrugs. “What? Gotham’s underworld is surprisingly progressive in some ways, but there’s assholes everywhere.”

Batman eyes the pair, weighing their story. “The effects on your bond. Similar?”

They both flush, exchanging charged glances and smirking slightly. Star Sapphire Dick grins. “Well, let's just say it was a good thing the portal dropped us in an uninhabited area. Are you _sure_ you want the details?”

Jayhawk is already vehemently shaking his head, and Tim blushes as he hurries to forestall any forthcoming overshares. “Um, no thanks. I think we get the gist of it.”

Of _course,_ Cat-Jay totally ignores them as he opens his mouth, grinning. “Fuck, we must’ve gone what, eight, ten times before it wore off enough for us to even _think_ again? Damn, Sweetcheeks, I think we spent the first fuckin’ day here just _recoverin’_ from that shit, thank fuck we were able to get in touch with my alternate Mama Cat and she was willin’ to lend us a safe house after we managed to convince her of our story and she finally stopped laughin’ her ass off.”

“…Okay,” Red Robin manages after a suitable period of horrified silence. “Great. Thanks for that disturbingly vivid bit of imagery. Moving on, we have reason to believe you were also involved in the recent disappearance of the Joker, and have been working with Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn who you used to distract us during the escape.”

“Oh, Mama Cat hooked us up with Ivy and Harley after hearing our story; she put two and two together real fast when her best friends finally got together, and brought ‘em to us to thank Dickie for his love-mojo helpin’ them find their true love or whatever.”

Star Sapphire Dick nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, yeah, the ladies were more than happy to arrange a little distraction in gratitude for our accidental help, especially once they found out our plan.”

“Elaborate,” Batman growls. “I am willing to extend you a measure of trust due to my interactions with the Justice League and Batman in your universe, but I am quickly losing patience. You are implicated in the escape of one of the most dangerous criminals of our time, and you have yet to explain yourselves.”

Jayhawk and Red Robin draw back slightly into ready positions at the promise of _danger_ in Batman’s words, training kicking in to back him up.

Star Sapphire Dick seems completely immune to the dark growl, tilting his head and smiling sweetly, exposed skin glimmering faintly in the dim light. “Our plan to break into Arkham and steal the Joker. Which was a complete success, by the way.”

Batman’s eyes narrow. “But that's impossible, even with Catwoman’s help. I asked her to test Arkham’s improved security; she failed to even penetrate the outermost defenses, and certainly would not have been capable of what you seem to have achieved.”

Cat-Jay gives him a sly grin, cocking a hip lazily. “That was one Cat, Man-B. Havin' two makes all the difference.”

“So you broke into a secure facility, assisted in the escape of a known felon and mass murderer—”

Star Sapphire Dick snorts. “And this is _exactly_ why we felt we had to hide this from you. Granted, we thought you were Asshole Man-B, but still. Even the most well-adjusted B in the multiverse would probably have issues with our plan.”

Batman rubs the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes briefly as he breathes in and out slowly as though to calm himself. “And why,” he begins, sounding tired, “did that knowledge fail to convince you that what you were planning was a _bad idea?”_

Star Sapphire Dick gives him a lopsided smile. “We knew we could do this, Man-B. We pulled it off. And there was no way in _hell_ I could be in a Gotham, any Gotham, where the Joker is still scheming and still a threat.” There's banked fury in his voice and his hands are clenched in fists, a minute tremble visible as his breathing grows shaky.

Batman studies him carefully, and when he speaks his voice is different, softened with understanding. “Who did he take from you, Dickie?”

“Jason,” Star Sapphire Dick answers brokenly, the anger draining from his body and leaving only sadness. “In my universe, the Joker murdered Jason, right in front of me.” He sniffs, rubbing a gloved hand across his eyes.

Everyone looks from Star Sapphire Dick to Cat-Jay, who is standing there alive and well and not looking even a little bit murdered. He doesn’t even have the white lock or teal eyes that would mark immersion in a Lazarus Pit.

Jayhawk clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, not to cast aspersions on your tragedy or whatever, but I’m guessing he got better? Jesus, how many fuckin’ universes did I _die_ in, and then pull the zombie act—”

“Oh yeah? Did you die in this universe, too?” Dick’s voice is thick with suppressed emotion, and Jason shakes his head mutely.

“Just came real close, thanks to Prettyboy here flyin’ in to save me right in the nick of time.”

Star Sapphire Dick gasps wetly. “I’m glad you guys had that. But. I was too late, just a _minute_ too late. He was _gone,_ the _man I love_ was _gone,_ and then I…”

He’s trembling, and Cat-Jay takes his hand as he continues, whispering. “I used my love for him, and Bryce's, and Tim's, and Selina's, to bring him back to life. I… didn’t know up until that moment that was something I could _do_ with the Star Sapphire ring. And. Seeing him _hurt_ like that, seeing him _dead,_ something in me just _snapped._ ”

Batman doesn’t move, but his figure seems to tense. “Dick, where is the Joker?” His voice is a dark warning, as though he _knows_ he isn’t going to like whatever Star Sapphire Dick and Cat-Jay are about to reveal.

Cat-Jay sighs, gesturing toward the open window of the tenement. “He’s right over there, Man-B. And before you go off on one of your fuckin’ self-righteous rants, the asshole’s still alive.”

Batman loses no time in swinging through the window, followed closely by Red Robin and Jayhawk. Star Sapphire Dick floats over with Cat-Jay wrapped tightly in his arms. Within, they move quickly past the austere safe house furnishings into a darkened, empty room. Well, almost empty.

There, leaning in the corner against a broken, stained toilet, is a towering amethyst crystal, reaching approximately two meters in height, and over half a meter in width at its widest. The perfect crystalline faces reflect the light entering the room, and it takes a moment before any of the Bats notices the darker truth underlying the unexpected, dazzling beauty.

There’s a shadow within the crystal. A _human-shaped_ shadow. As his eyes manage to focus past the dazzling play of light over the crystal faces, Red Robin is able to discern legs and a body, with two arms, upraised as though attacking, and a pale, pale face, distorted in an unnatural smile—

He snaps his eyes away, attention captured by the stiffening of his boyfriend at his side. “Jay!” Red spins, hands going to Jayhawk’s shoulders.

Jay allows Red to hold him, but his eyes are fixed on the Joker, the monster in his dreams. “Is he dead?” He whispers hoarsely. Batman’s eyes snap to the visitors, daring them to answer.

Star Sapphire Dick’s voice is quiet when he responds. “No, he’s still alive.” Jayhawk lets out a soft noise, and Red Robin tucks himself into his partner’s side, pressing close in an attempt to share his strength as Star Sapphire Dick continues more strongly. “But he’s trapped in there in a state of suspended animation, literally encased in love. Some say the crystal breaks once the person inside learns how to love, allows it to flood their heart and change them.”

“And if he never does.” Batman stares at the eerie sight as Star Sapphire Dick inhales sharply, breathing out slowly and then turning away.

“In that case, he stays like this forever.” There’s no regret or apology in his voice as he steps back out of the room, followed closely by Cat-Jay. Red and Jayhawk join them a moment later, not inclined to linger for any amount of time near even a crystalized Joker.

When Batman emerges a few minutes later, his voice is flat, absent censure or approval when he speaks. “We should return to the Cave and regroup prior to sending the visitors back to their universe and deciding what to do with… that _thing.”_

Star Sapphire Dick smiles, equilibrium apparently regained after the emotional outpouring of the past few minutes. “When I accidentally encased our Joker in crystal after he killed Jason, B threw a fit at first, but eventually worked something out with Superman to store him in lockdown in the Fortress of Solitude. Or I guess you could hand him over to the Violet Lanterns, up to you.”

“Or you could drop him off the Grand Canyon and let the fucker shatter,” Cat-Jay suggests. “Not like that bag o’ dicks is ever gonna let love into his shriveled black heart and get free, why waste storage space on the fucker?”

“We don’t kill,” Batman growls.

Cat-Jay actually reaches out and pats him on the arm. “Yeah, yeah, Man-B, I know. Enjoy your fuckin’ new creepy-ass paperweight. Just don’t fuckin’ put it in the Hall of Trophies, that shit’s fuckin’ disturbing enough as it is.”

Red Robin shakes his head and checks on Jayhawk, who he can feel shaking slightly at his side.

_Damn it, Jay shouldn’t have had to see that—_

But Red’s thought process breaks down in confusion when he looks at his boyfriend, and realizes Jay’s _smiling,_ tears in his eyes and trembling with emotion. “It’s over,” he whispers. “It’s fuckin’ _over,_ that shitstain’s outta the picture now and he’s never gonna hurt _anyone,_ ever again.” Jay starts laughing as Red grins and brings him in for a reassuring hug, and if they’re both shaking a little, well, obviously it’s just adrenalin let down.

 _“Awww!”_ A thump, and suddenly they’re both being hugged _tight_ as Star Sapphire Dick proves he’s _definitely_ Dick Grayson and manages to capture both of them, along with a sympathetic Cat-Jay and startled Batman, in a life-affirming, if slightly awkward, group hug.

Red sighs and smiles, wiggling one of his arms loose enough to use his wrist computer to call the Batmobile, Redbird, and the unmarked van they use for surveillance or injury evac. It’ll do for now, to store the crystallized villain until they work out the best strategy for containment.

Batman rubs Jayhawk’s back carefully. “We won’t keep him in the Cave, Jay.”

“Too fuckin’ _right_ you won’t,” Jay growls, mostly recovered and embarrassed at his minor breakdown.

Batman straightens minutely, and everyone else in the huddle immediately looks to him, whispered conversations drying up. “There are intruders in the Cave.” And suddenly he’s _gone,_ out of the hug and dropping to street level to vault into the Batmobile just as it pulls up.

They all watch it peel out without ever actually coming to a complete stop, and Jay snorts. “Guess we’re all pilin’ into Redbird then, unless you guys wanna ride with the fuckin’ Joker.”

“Ugh, hard pass.” Star Sapphire Dick shudders convulsively. “We’ll help you guys load him up, but we’ve got our own ride back to the Manor.” He floats up into the air a few inches, grinning at the reminder he can fly.

“I fuckin’ love it when you take me for a _ride,_ Sweets,” Cat-Jason purrs as he pulls Star Sapphire Dick back down and rubs suggestively up against him, to his very evident delight.

_Wait…_

“Ugh, how are we supposed to carry him out? That rock must literally weigh well over a ton.”

Star Sapphire Dick grins, holding out his hand as the ring begins to glow bright violet. “Just leave that to me!” An enormous violet hand appears, a violet light construct summoned by the ring, and scoops up the huge crystal. “Shall we?” Dick extends a hand to Cat-Jay, who flips the frozen Joker off as he takes Dick's hand.

Jayhawk and Red Robin look on, impressed, as the pair easily make their way over to the van with their crystalline burden. “Fuck if that goofball isn't growing on me,” Jay murmurs. “Damn useful.”

“Suddenly it makes much more sense how they were able to break into Arkham and steal the Joker so easily.”

“Right? I’m just fuckin’ glad _our_ Dickie can’t do that shit, just think of all the ways he’d misuse that kind of power.”

As Tim envisions Dick with the ability to grow a dozen extra violet light appendages, the better to capture everyone he knows in an extended involuntary group hug, he can only shudder his agreement.

Star Sapphire Dick turns back to them as his violet light construct unceremoniously dumps the Joker-crystal in the back of the van with a dull _thunk._ “So… I think I’ve got a pretty good idea who those ‘ _intruders’_ in the Cave might be, and I for one don’t want to keep them waiting.” He swings Cat-Jay up in his arms and waves jauntily as they begin to float away together.

_Welp, this night can’t really get any weirder at this point. Damn it, now I’m going to regret that thought later aren’t I._

*

Dick’s face feels like it’s frozen in an ecstatic smile as he flips and twists his way through a complicated aerial acrobatics routine, the cool Cave air a welcome relief against his overheated skin as he flies.

With everyone but Tim and Jay basically benched until the troubling aphrodisiac case is put to rest, he’s been looking out for all the little birds, making sure they stay busy and out of trouble… at least, to the best of his ability. It definitely helps that Babs is keeping an eye on everyone too, ready to crack down on any attempts by the kids to sneak out and put themselves at risk. _Damn, Babs is one fine, terrifying woman. I am a lucky, lucky man._

Dick’s pretty sure Damian and Steph at least have been up to a bit of mischief anyway, but hopefully his timely intervention will protect Bruce’s poor inamorata from being subjected to too much grief.

Timmy’s no help, enabling the pair at every opportunity, with his innocent _‘huh this lady isn’t coming up in any database or using facial recognition software, guys, gosh that's kind of concerning’_ and _‘oh no the background checks I ran on her are coming up completely empty. This is starting to look really suspicious’_ just feeding the fires of their vindictiveness.

Dick flips, keeping his focus as his body rotates two, three, _four_ times and eases into a smooth landing, chest heaving as he catches his breath and then stretches, cooling down.

 _Well, if nothing else B’s secret girlfriend has been a great distraction so no one goes out to play sleuth and get exposed to the mystery toxin. The absolute_ last _thing we need is some kind of horrible drug-induced family love triangle, what a nightmare_ that _would be._

With that thought trailing through his mind, Dick looks up, and freezes in absolute horror and profound dismay at the sight which greets him.

Batman is standing in full uniform next to the Batcomputer, his back to Dick. He’s… _embracing_ someone, no, _kissing_ them, someone _small,_ with recognizable messy dark hair, big trusting blue eyes full of adoration and love looking up at Batman _the way he usually looks at Jason,_ and something inside of Dick dies a little as he realizes what he is seeing.

 _Oh my god, no. NO. Tim must’ve gotten exposed to the toxin somehow, and carried it back here where it exposed_ Bruce, _and now they’re-_

Dick’s moving, diving toward the weapons locker before he even decides on a course of action, every fiber of his being rebelling against allowing his beloved _family_ members to be harmed any further by this cruel crime against their autonomy and will. Even if he manages to stop them right now and there are no lingering aftereffects once they manage to enact a cure, this is still going to _hurt._

Jay and Tim will bounce back; they’ve been together a long time and built their relationship on a firm foundation of trust, mutual understanding and respect, as well as a mutual appreciation for crude humor. But this will change things between them and Bruce, who’s bound to be crippled with guilt once he comes to himself and realizes he’s been engaging in this kind of compromising behavior with his _son’s boyfriend._

And the _girlfriend,_ who knows what this will do to Bruce’s own nascent romantic relationship? A civilian would never understand, heck, even another _hero_ would have trouble understanding _this_ level of screwed up.

No, Dick _has_ to save them. His hand closes on the tranq dart gun, and he rotates in mid-air already aiming and shooting toward their exposed necks. As they turn toward him, honed reflexes and senses picking up on the threat, his heart jumps into his throat.

That is _not_ Bruce’s face, marked by subtle differences like the softer, fuller lips and variations in bone structure, as well as more noticeable changes like the green tint to the eyes and golden olive skin tone.

“What the _hell,”_ Dick whispers as Batman reacts instantaneously, spinning in place and wrapping his cape around himself and his smaller partner to protect them from the darts, which bounce harmlessly off the armored cape. _“DAMIAN?!”_

As Dick lies on the Cave floor still clutching the tranq gun, stunned into silence, Bat-Damian rises to his feet, gently assisting his lover back to a standing position. Dick is further shocked to see Tim wearing what looks like a Catwoman cosplay. He is still just staring as the Batmobile roars into the Cave and squeals to a halt beside him.

Batman, _Bruce,_ steps out, and regards the interlopers and Dick for a long, silent moment.

“Hey Man-B,” Cat-Tim says, peeking around Bat-Damian’s broad shoulder and smirking. “Nice place you got here, except your Dick’s kind of quick on the draw. I mean, I know a lot of guys have problems with that kind of thing as they get older, but _damn._ He shot off in like, less than a second.” He lifts a delicate eyebrow and licks his lips, an unfamiliarly predatory smile slowly growing on his familiar face.

“Beloved,” Bat-Damian murmurs in admonition as Dick blinks in horror and Bruce clearly barely manages to suppress the urge to facepalm. “Cease your tormenting of our hosts; it is not their fault we are worried about our brothers.”

Cat-Tim’s smile softens into something sweet and real. “You’re right, Dami.” He looks back at where Dick has now regained his feet and is standing shoulder to shoulder with Batman. “You guys got an extra pair of idiots hanging around here somewhere? We lost ours. They’re pretty hard to miss; one sparkles and flies through the air, and explosions tend to follow the other.”

“We got ‘em,” another voice chimes in from the other end of the Cave, and Dick turns to see Red Robin approaching with the cowl down, Jayhawk peeling off his mask and following close behind, the Redbird parked behind them. “They’ll be here in a few minutes; they fell behind because Cat-Jay keeps starting to grope Star Sapphire Dick and then they get, uh, _distracted_ for a few minutes before speeding up again to catch up.”

_What the what._

Against his will, Dick’s gaze slowly drags away from Tim to meet Jason’s haunted, clearly traumatized gaze, and they both turn bright red and immediately look anywhere but at each other. _Oh god there’s another me flying over Gotham right now being_ groped _by another version of my little brother. Why._

“Great,” he manages. “Now, anyone wanna tell me what the _hell_ is going on here?!”

*

All three versions of Tim Drake currently present in the Cave are huddled around the Batcomputer together, bickering amicably about the ideal settings to use in order to send the visitors back to their home universe safely while minimizing the potential for multiversal distortion resulting in additional errant portals. The adult version of Damian is leaning over their shoulders, extending one graceful hand to point something out on the screen for them, Cass perched nearby quietly observing them all.

Dick and Jason are off to one side, casually chatting with their alternates. Damian and Stephanie are notably absent, but at this point the chaos level in the Cave is high enough Bruce is grateful for any reprieve, however small.

He winces, still feeling guilty over the unexpected effect his actions had on the people from the alternate universe who had been kind enough to allow him to borrow their Cave for a meeting. When he realized Red Robin and Jayhawk had engaged with persons unknown at the last probable location of the Joker, it had been like someone poured ice in his veins.

The possibility of, once more, arriving too late had reared itself like a grim specter in his mind, settled only by his arrival at the scene to find all the troubling events recently were directly traceable to _his own actions._

 _At least Joker’s done,_ a dark part of his mind he refuses to acknowledge whispers. He shakes his head to clear away those thoughts. _Everyone’s safe, and the threat is neutralized. We’ll send these boys home, and things will go back to normal._

The calming thought helps him relax some of the built-up tension, as does the recollection that all of his children are now aware of his visit to the alternate universe to attempt to convince the other Batman to reconcile with and apologize to his children. It was difficult, concealing the truth from his family, but Bruce _hated_ the thought of raising Tim and Red’s hopes, and the other Bruce failing them yet again, _hurting_ them once more.

Hopefully events have come to a head in the other universe as well; based on his last conversation with Buttman, it seems likely. Bruce smirks, enjoying the thought of the other Batman being set upon by his children who absolutely without a shadow of a doubt are convinced the other Batman is compromised.

A deserved punishment, as well as a statement and a promise that the man will do whatever it takes to win their trust.

Bruce is sure the other Batman will be grateful, in time.

A long time.

He smirks again, then raises an eyebrow at a snippet of overheard conversation.

Cat-Jason is gesturing broadly, an exasperated look on his face. “Seriously, I can't believe you guys never thought of weaponizing Dickie's love; used right, it's the most powerful, terrifying fuckin' force in the multiverse.”

Jason huffs a laugh. “Yeah, well maybe that’s a good reason _not_ to fuckin’ turn it into a weapon. That shit’s too goddamn scary. I’m glad ours sticks to escrimas.”

Both Dicks shrug agreeably. “Whatever, either way our costumes are the best!” They high five, and Bruce winces, hoping against hope his eldest doesn’t decide to revamp his costume again taking inspiration from his alternate’s _lack_ of costume.

Jason nods his chin toward Cat-Jason. “So, Catboy?” He raises a skeptical, judging eyebrow.

Cat-Jason’s face turns red and he clenches his fists, taking an aborted step forward. “I'm the _Red Fang,_ damn it!”

Stray Tim pipes up from his seat at the Batcomputer, ears carefully tuned for any opportunity to humiliate his big brother. “No one actually calls you that, Jase.”

Star Sapphire Dick pats a sputtering Cat-Jason on the shoulder comfortingly. “I do!”

Stray Tim gives a put-upon sigh. “No, Dick, you call him _Schnookums.”_

“As well as Love Muffin, Mister Sexypants, and myriad other horrifying and disturbing nicknames.” Bat-Damian’s voice sounds appalled but fond, and Stray Tim takes a moment to smirk at his boyfriend before becoming absorbed again in his discussion with the other Tims.

“…Anyway, Timmy over there cribbed Stray before I fell in with the Cats, so when the media caught sight of me they called me fuckin _Catboy.”_ Cat-Jason sounds absolutely disgusted with the moniker.

Jason, on the other hand, looks surprisingly sympathetic. “And it stuck?”

Cat-Jason nods dejectedly. “Like fuckin’ superglue. I've been workin’ to change it for years, but it's like fighting the goddamn tide.”

“Rough, man.” The two shake their heads sympathetically and both Dicks pat Cat-Jason comfortingly on the back.

Star Sapphire Dick glances up at Bruce just then, an expression on his face that reminds Bruce of the time when he was twelve and accidentally broke one of his grandmother’s vases doing parkour in the house. “What is it, Dickie?”

Bruce’s voice and expression are gentle enough to reassure the young man, who gives him a weak smile. “I, uh, just remembered something else you’d probably like to know before we go home.”

“Go on.” It cannot possibly be that bad, considering the level of potential catastrophe with which they have already dealt.

“Uh, well, when the whole accidentally supercharging romantic bonds thing happened…” Star Sapphire Dick winces apologetically. “Well, I’m pretty sure we also accidentally kickstarted Riddler and Two Face into a romantic relationship here?”

_Oh dear God, why._

“WHAT.”

Star Sapphire Dick shrugs uncomfortably. “Well, they’re a couple in our universe, so it makes sense they might be interested in each other here? In my universe, it took lots of talking things through and help, but they made it as a couple. Here I guess the emotional push I accidentally sent out was enough to get them there.”

Bruce just stares at him numbly, horror and dismay winding through him at the thought of two of his rogues teaming up to wreak who knows what manner of havoc together.

Cat-Jason’s brows rise as he studies Bruce’s expression, and then he smirks like the cat who got the cream. “Oh, don’t worry ‘bout them raisin’ hell, Man-B. Last we saw of _those_ two, they were doin’ it in an alley near the safe house we’ve been stayin’ in. If they’re anything like the pair in our universe, they’ll be way the hell too busy screwin’ each other’s brains out now to ever get back into crime.”

A ringing silence falls over the Cave, presumably because everyone therein is desperately attempting to force their brains to forget the last minute.

The silence is broken only when Tim’s stilted voice, high with horror, answers, “Everything you just _said_ should be a crime. What is _wrong_ with you, why are you _like_ this.”

Stray Tim giggles, patting Tim gently on the head. “You’re so innocent, it’s cute.”

Tim bats halfheartedly at his hand, then looks at Timmy who is blushing profusely and attempting to sink through his chair. Tim gestures toward the younger boy. _“He’s_ the cute one. Incidentally, I’m pretty sure he’s now traumatized.”

Timmy glares at the older boys, who are both staring at him interestedly now, along with a concerned Bat-Damian. “I’m fine! Shut up.” He begins typing furiously, still blushing. Cass leans down and whispers something in his ear, calming him.

Cat-Jason coughs awkwardly. “Uh, right. Sorry, Tiny Timbo. Forgot there was a kid in the Cave.”

“You need not censor your conversation in _our_ presence, Second Todd; Timothy and I are both sufficiently mature to handle anything _you_ might put forth.”

All the gathered vigilantes turn toward the younger Damian’s voice, which, Bruce realizes almost immediately, is emanating from the shelf-like rock formation on the Cave wall which has long been a favorite hideout for the younger Bats.

Bruce suppresses a sigh, considering himself fortunate the child revealed his presence before anything _too_ risqué was discussed. Or performed; some of their visitors have a history of exhibitionism, and the last thing Bruce needs is his ten year-old walking in on alternate versions of his older brothers in flagrante.

Star Sapphire Dick drifts up in the air to get a better look. “Oh my god, it’s Baby Dami! Ooh and is that Steph? Huh, didn’t realize _you_ would be here.”

“Why not?” Steph huffs defensively, bright blonde head popping up over the ledge beside Damian, clearly prepared to defend her right to be in the Cave. Timmy twitches as though prepared to move toward her in an instant should the need arise.

Star Sapphire Dick grins disarmingly. “Well, in our universe you’re one of _Diana’s_ protégées, so you don’t really spend much time around the Cave.”

Steph’s mouth drops open in pleased shock. “Ohmygod Wonder Woman. _So cool,”_ she whispers, sinking back down behind the ledge with a delighted grin on her face.

Damian watches her until she is out of sight, then turns his frowning little countenance on Star Sapphire Dick. “Nude Grayson, I have been listening and thus comprehend both your origins, and the discrepancies between our universes which resulted in your current attire and array of powers.”

Star Sapphire Dick looks slightly dazed, mouthing _Nude Grayson?_ Timmy is smirking, and Tim and Jason are outright laughing as the little boy continues.

“The point upon which I require clarification is _how_ you manage to fight crime anonymously _without a mask.”_ The small boy stares down at Star Sapphire Dick expectantly, clearly awaiting a reply.

Stray Tim snickers. “Well, first of all I don’t think many people are staring at his _face_ in _that_ outfit, Baby Dami…”

“Do not call me that, Consort Drake!” At Stray Tim’s surprised look, Damian rolls his eyes. “It is _painfully_ obvious you are my alternate self’s chosen consort in your home universe; therefore, I must address you as befits your status.” He turns toward Bat-Damian, who is watching with an expression of amused approval glowing in his dark green eyes. “Excellent choice, brother-self. Timothy would indeed make a fine mate, in a world in which he and I were not raised as brothers.”

Bat-Damian nods respectfully, the corners of his mouth the only sign he is suppressing laughter at his haughty little younger self.

Star Sapphire Dick clears his throat. “Anyway, to _actually_ answer your question…” He directs a mild glare at Stray Tim, who grins and shrugs. “I do have a mask! Sort of. It’s lavender and covers my eyes; I just don’t wear it around the Cave and didn’t have it on when the Bats showed up at our safe house earlier.” He whips a miniscule pinkish mask out of… _somewhere,_ and puts it on with a dazzling smile. “See?”

“…You still look exactly like Dick Grayson, just with a _tiny_ pink mask around your eyes.” Tim tilts his head skeptically. “You know, I think Stray might be right on this one. Or maybe all the glitter when you fly around is distracting so no one gets a good look at your face.”

Star Sapphire Dick shrugs. “Whatever, it works!”

Cat-Jason casually pulls him in for a kiss, removing the mask while he’s distracted. “Rather see your pretty face, Sweetcheeks.” Dick’s answering smile is blinding.

A loudly cleared throat draws everyone’s attention back to where Damian and Steph have both hopped down from the ledge to stand on the Cave floor. Damian says, "Nude Grayson, it is my understanding you possess the power to detect and potentially trace the bonds of love between two persons. I must request you utilize said ability now, for the sake of this family. Please locate Father's paramour, that we may subject the miserable deceiver to the suitor’s challenges of valor and prove their worth, or lack thereof, once and for all."

Bruce starts. _What._ “My _paramour?_ How did you find out about…” He pauses, clearing his throat uncomfortably, then shakes his head. “I mean. This is unimportant right now.” He narrows his eyes, mind turning over the unexpected accusation. “Why would you believe I am dating anyone, anyway.”

Star Sapphire Dick grins delightedly. “Well, the solid, strong, _clearly_ reciprocated romantic relationship bond I sense connecting you to someone else was _my_ first clue…”

“Damn, Sweets, you're such a fuckin' great detective!” Cat-Jason tugs Star Sapphire Dick back into his arms for a deep kiss, which turns into several kisses, at which point Bruce's attention is thankfully recaptured by his youngest.

_Although I am uncertain defending myself against these accusations is much of an improvement upon watching alternate versions of my oldest sons compromising each other…_

“Father, we found the photograph.” Damian stares at Bruce expectantly, as though he expects him to understand immediately whatever supposed evidence he is referencing. Timmy, Steph and Dick all look unsurprised, so obviously they are also familiar with this. Cass is watching observantly, and as always it is difficult to get a read on whether or not she is in on her brothers’ antics.

“What photograph?” Bruce will get to the bottom of this; likely, it is some tabloid picture. He would probably be able to quell the allegations easily were it not for Star Sapphire Dick’s inconvenient powers and irritatingly big mouth…

“Yeah, what fuckin' photo?” Jason is eying the others with suspicion. “You guys got dirt on Dad, and left me out of it?”

Tim looks slightly hurt as well. “Timmy, how could you. We _tell_ each other these things.”

Timmy looks surprised, then apologetic. “Wait, no- you two were busy on the case, we just didn't want to distract you, plus you’re hardly around lately. Anyway, I was going to tell you about it tonight, because I wasn’t getting anywhere on the background checks.”

His older brother regards him for a long moment, then lifts an eyebrow and shrugs delicately. “Fine, you’re forgiven, but _you_ have to take mother to the ballet next time.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Timmy rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, pouting.

“That… doesn't sound so bad?” Cat-Jay whispers to Stray Tim, who looks haunted.

“You never met Mother, Jay,” he whispers. “She’s kind of low key terrifying. It’s pretty bad.”

“Anyway, B, lay off on the defensiveness, we have proof.” And Timmy pulls up an image on the Batcomputer which causes Bruce's mouth to drop open in sheer surprise.

_Huh. That… is not what I was expecting._

Bruce stares in shock. That is the picture he took with Bryce after they and their respective Justice Leagues solved the interdimensional case together, having bonded during the prolonged, exhausting ordeal. He remembers the simple pleasure of interacting and working with someone who felt so familiar on such an intrinsic level; by the end, she truly had felt like family to him. They look very… _happy_ in the picture.

Perhaps it isn’t so surprising the children were misled when they found this.

He isn't the only one stunned into momentary silence at the sight; all four visitors startle at the image.

“Sister,” Cass whispers softly upon staring at the photo for a moment, causing the Tims to all look at her in confusion.

“You are… engaged in a multiversal romantic relationship with _Mother?_ ” Bat-Damian looks appalled.

“Wait, B’s a _woman_ in your universe?!” Dick stares, wide-eyed, at the photograph with a new level of horror in his expression. “Oh god, so you’re not just dating someone who _looks_ like you, you had to go and find someone who literally _is you?_ Bruce, you have a _problem.”_

Cat-Jason’s eyes narrow in consideration and he tilts his head, regarding the image on the screen. “I mean, it's self-cest, and that's pretty fuckin' weird, but everyone involved is an adult, so s'long as Mama Cat’s okay with it…” He glares at Bruce suddenly, and growls, “You _did_ get buy in from Mama Cat before you started screwin' around with her fuckin’ _wife_ , right Man-B?” His claws emerge alarmingly as his eyes slowly narrow.

Bruce stares at Cat-Jason in abject horror, unable to respond immediately. There is so much wrong with those statements, Bruce is having trouble parsing exactly where to even _begin_ his categorical vehement denial.

Star Sapphire Dick saves him the trouble. “No Jayjay, Cass is right, Man-B and our B’s bond is familial.” He directs a kindly look to Cass, who smiles sweetly back at him. “Brother-sister stuff. His romantic bond leads to someone in _this_ universe! I’m not sure who yet, but I can tell they’re somewhere on this earth.”

Everyone immediately begins throwing out guesses as to the potential identity of Bruce’s actual love interest. Selina’s name is put forward several times, causing Bruce to wince as he recalls _that_ on-again, off-again relationship fizzling out shortly after Jason’s close call. He does not regret his decision to place his children first, and Selina had made it very clear she was not ready to be a mother to so many.

_I wonder if things might have been different between us, had she adopted a stray or two of her own first… What am I saying, of course everything would have gone differently. I have seen the proof of that now._

He sets aside those ponderings, instead choosing to focus on the present.

Star Sapphire Dick beams happily, turning to Bruce with a _look_ on his face that causes Bruce to wonder uneasily if it would be possible to create a distraction effective enough to allow Bruce time to flee the Cave to escape the forthcoming awkwardness and discomfort. Possibly even the country. “Hey Man-B, did I ever tell you how love’s like a batarang?"

_What. No._

Bruce shakes his head in general denial, knowing even as he does so the inevitable futility of attempting to prevent Star Sapphire Dick from explaining how, exactly, love is in any way similar to a bat-shaped throwing weapon.

_Why._

As Star Sapphire Dick expounds on his ridiculous simile and the visitors to this universe lean back and settle in to listen, clearly _very_ familiar with this speech, Bruce allows his attention to wander over his own children’s faces.

Dick and Steph are listening with amusement and Cass is impassive, probably already having been aware on some level of Bruce’s romantic connection, but Jason is still frowning, clearly troubled by the revelation of Bruce’s romantic attachment. There is a careful blankness on Tim and Timmy’s faces that Bruce finds worrying. But the most concerning is Damian, his little boy, who is standing there with a tension in his frame troublingly indicative of his state of mind. Damian is scared.

 _I did this,_ Bruce thinks, distressed. _I thought I was keeping it a secret for their own good, in case it didn’t work out. I didn’t want them to be disappointed, to come to depend on someone who might leave them if we didn’t remain a couple._

As he watches, Damian folds his arms over his chest and frowns down at the floor. _I am sorry, son. I will fix this, I promise._

Bruce sighs, drawing everyone’s attention as Star Sapphire Dick breaks off what he is saying and smiles at Bruce, clearly thinking he has broken through to him and convinced him to pursue love wholeheartedly.

_Well, he isn’t wrong._

Bruce huffs a small laugh at what he is about to do. _This is ridiculous._

“Kal-el,” he murmurs, and with a rush of wind, suddenly Superman is _right there,_ hands on Bruce’s shoulders and worriedly scanning him over for injuries. Finding none, he turns and rapidly scans everyone else in the room to identify any emergency or urgent medical needs, obviously thinking only a dire situation bordering on catastrophe would lead to Bruce summoning him like this.

Slowing down as he realizes nothing appears to be amiss besides the extra copies of Bruce’s children, Clark turns to Bruce, a question in his bright blue gaze.

“They found out,” Bruce explains. “I believe it is time, anyway.” And he reaches a hand out for his partner, the man with whom he already shares so much.

And as Clark’s eyes _light up,_ a resplendent smile like the sun lighting up his beaming, good-natured face, Bruce realizes with a trace of guilt that Clark is ready to share their relationship with their families, has perhaps _been_ ready for some time, and maintaining the secrecy merely to satisfy Bruce’s concerns.

_I spent so much time dwelling on my alternate self’s mistakes, I failed to see I was making my own. I am sorry, Clark. I promise I will try harder._

It had seemed the responsible decision at the time, as he and Clark slowly grew closer while navigating the various hurdles of raising their wonderful but challenging children. Calling each other for advice, taking turns watching each other’s children, just being there for each other. Gradually becoming _more,_ and hesitating to share their nascent relationship with those closest to them just in case things didn’t work out.

The last thing Bruce wanted was to introduce a partner, another potential parent, into his children’s lives, and then take them away again. All of his children have already lost too much in their young lives. But it seems this, too, was hurtful, both to his precious children and the man who is one of his dearest friends and has with time become so much more to him.

Bruce is rocked out of his guilt spiral as his partner takes him in his arms, still beaming. “Oh, _Bruce!_ To think, when I heard you call I expected to find some apocalyptic emergency, with you on the verge of bleeding out or surrounded by rogues. _This_ instead is a wonderful surprise.” And he smiles tentatively down at Bruce, his eyes asking all the questions he won’t, about whether Bruce is truly ready to take this step.

Bruce settles those questions by leaning in for a chaste kiss, punctuated by the whoops and catcalls of Steph and both Jasons, the delighted cooing of both Dicks, at least two Tims squeaking in embarrassment, and the older Damian snorting.

 _“Yeah, B-man, GET it!”_ Bruce cringes internally at the sheer volume of Steph’s enthusiastic support.

“Great matchmaking work, other me!” Dick’s pleased whisper carries somehow through the bedlam, causing Bruce to roll his eyes mentally. _Great. Now Dick will be even_ more _convinced of the power of his truly abysmal matchmaking skills._

When they separate, Bruce is momentarily startled to find his Damian is right at his elbow, staring fixedly at Clark who smiles down at him, an embarrassed flush on his cheeks. “Hello, Damian.” Clark sinks to his knees to be closer to eye level with the boy. “Did you want to say something?”

Damian scoffs, then smirks. “Actually, yes. Prior to being permitted to court Father, you must complete the suitor’s challenges of valor, to prove your merit and dedication.”

Bruce resists the urge to facepalm as Clark’s brows climb in surprise and the rest of his assorted children watch the proceedings with dawning grins. He rubs his eyes tiredly. “Damian—” he begins, planning to explain to his son again _why_ sending his family’s romantic interests on dangerous and dubious quests is both unnecessary and questionable behavior, when Clark’s face breaks into a happy smile.

“Of course, Damian,” he says, gently reaching forward and taking what looks like a map from the little boy’s hands. “Be right back!”

And he’s gone. Bruce blinks, wondering how he managed to surround himself with so many insane people, and what that implies about the state of his _own_ sanity.

“Um, guys?” Tim is looking up from his position at the Batcomputer, where he was apparently continuing to work during the distraction. “We have everything set up to create the portal and send you home. You know. Whenever you’re ready.”

Stray Tim hushes him. “Shh, we need to see how this plays out!” Steph grins at the interplay between the Tims, then climbs up by the Batcomputer for a better view of the drama, running her fingers through Timmy’s hair and leaning down to whisper something in his ear that makes him smile and smother a laugh.

Cat-Jason nods, grinning. “Yeah, there’s no fuckin’ way we’re leavin’ without watching the rest of the show.”

He startles slightly as Alfred appears at his elbow with a platter of snacks and drinks. “Oh my god, it’s Man Alfie. Holy shit,” he says faintly, staring at the stoic butler as though he’s seen a ghost. “Um, thanks. Dude this universe is fuckin’ _weird.”_

“Language, Master Jason.”

 _“Oh my god he even_ talks _like her.”_

Alfred moves quietly among the various Bats, distributing snacks and clearly taking a great deal of benign amusement at disconcerting the boys from the alternate universe.

Bruce is still fighting a fond smile when Clark reappears only moments later, a puzzled expression on his face, arms full carrying a truly baffling array of items he apparently gathered on his journey, including a bedraggled, wet kitten, numerous odds and ends which probably possess some significance Bruce will find highly disturbing at a later time, and something that looks worryingly like one of Penguin’s canes.

“He has completed the suitor’s challenges of valor!” Damian cries, stepping forward importantly. “Welcome to our family, Stepfather!” He frowns. “Wait, why do you carry a kitten?” Reaching forward, he gently relieves Clark of his burden and cuddles the exhausted, tiny animal protectively close.

“Stepfather?” Clark mouths, brows raised as he directs a helplessly confused look toward Bruce, who shrugs. “Well, when I saw this little guy drowning in a bag as I flew over the Docks finishing up your little scavenger hunt, I couldn’t just leave him there.”

Damian stares at him for a long moment, a soft look in his eyes, and then carefully places the kitten in the pocket of his hoodie, where it curls happily enough. He then steamrolls onward without regard to the confusion and amusement of his audience. “Kon-el, come!” The teen lands in their midst a moment later, glancing around in expectant confusion, smiling and nodding to the Bats and his father, and giving the visitors wide eyed looks.

“Hey guys, what's- oof!” Damian slams into him, capturing him in a hug although it is clear he is exercising care not to crush the kitten.

“Stepbrother! At last, we shall finally have you as an official member of the family!” He glares over his shoulder at Bruce.

Timmy drifts over and gently tugs Damian off of a bewildered Kon, smiling at his friend. “Dami never really forgave B for telling us you would be our little brother way back when and then letting Clark have you.”

“Oh.” Kon smiles brightly and wraps an arm around Damian. “You know I've always thought of you guys as my brothers.”

Timmy snorts. “Well that's convenient, because apparently the dads are on board to make it official.”

Kon turns wide eyes on Clark. “Dad?” He asks in a small voice.

Clark winces, holding out his hands as though unsure what to do to go about defusing the situation. “I'm sorry, Conner, I meant to tell you in a different way—” He breaks off as Kon’s boyish face breaks out in an enormous grin.

“Oh my god this is the best thing that could possibly happen!” He grabs both Timmy and Damian into an enthusiastic hug, only pausing for a surprised moment when the kitten’s head pops out of Damian’s pocket. He visibly dismisses the oddity, shrugging and grinning before bursting out, “We’re going to be _brothers,_ guys!”

Bruce and Clark stand together, stunned, watching as their boys break into excited chatter.

“See, Man-B?” Star Sapphire Dick speaks from over Bruce’s shoulder, where he apparently sidled up to him at some point during the chaos. “Love can be scary sometimes, but once you grab on to it and learn to trust in it, keep it close and share it with others, well, you won’t regret it.”

Bruce is about to nod at the surprising wisdom of Star Sapphire Dick’s words when the young man grins brightly and blithely continues, “ _Exactly_ like a batarang.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Red Robin, plotting Joker’s downfall:** “Whatcha got, Jay?”  
>  **Jayhawk, staring in horror at Star Sapphire Dick and Cat-Jay grinding on each other:** “The FUCK” *Grabs Red Robin and kisses him repeatedly to clear mental image of HIMSELF making out with his BROTHER*  
>  **Star Sapphire Dick, catching sight of them:** “OHMYGOD I MADE YOU GUYS COMMIT INCEST” *Collapses dramatically on his knees before them, wailing* “I’m so sooooooooorrrry!!!”  
>  **Batman, gruffly:** “So it seems I dragged you two here from your universe… My bad.” *Peers past them to see crystallized Joker behind them* “…Apparently you found a way to keep yourselves busy”  
>  **Red Robin, Jayhawk:** “The FUCK”  
>  **Star Sapphire Dick, giggling innocently:** “Oopsie?” *Grabs Cat-Jason, disappears into the sky* “So long, suckers!!!!”  
>  *  
>  **Damian, glaring up at Batman:** “Produce your paramour INSTANTLY that I may subject them to a terrifying barrage of challenges!” *Wields numerous pointy objects menacingly*  
>  **Bruce, dryly:** “Well when you put it THAT way…” *Folds arms, makes it perfectly clear he has no intention of producing his paramour*  
>  **Clark, appearing out of nowhere:** “Here I am! Ooooh a scavenger hunt to win Bruce’s hand? Don’t mind if I do!” *Zips out of the Cave, leaving awkward silence behind*  
>  **Multiple Dick Graysons:** “Damn you landed SUPERMAN?! Good going, B, I had no idea you had so much game!”  
>  **Both Jason Todds:** “Hey B, I always wondered, when Supes has sex, does his—” *Continues mumbling as various siblings dive to cover his mouth and shut him up*  
>  **All the Tims, blushing:** “Actually it’s a legitimate and worrying question, considering Clark’s superstrength—” *Trails off, wilting under Batglare*  
>  **Bruce, Batglaring at everyone:** “No.”  
>  **Clark, returning carrying all Gotham’s rogues handcuffed and gagged:** “Well that was a fun scavenger hunt! Oh, and I found a kitten!” *Beams, hands Damian the kitten*  
>  **All Bruce’s children, gathering around Clark adoringly:** “You pass, in fact can you move in today?”  
>  **Bruce, grumbling:** “I knew having him meet the family was a mistake” *Begins to drag various rogues into detaining cells in the Cave pending handing them over to the police*  
>  **Star Sapphire Dick, following after him, grinning:** “Hey I wonder how many more of these Rogues I can convince to fall in love with each other—” *Begins to sparkle ominously*  
>  **Bruce, Batglaring even harder:** “NO” *Fends Star Sapphire Dick off by shoving Cat-Jason at him as a distraction, flees Cave*


	10. Chapter 10

Tim sighs, running a hand through his hair as he thinks about the wild rollercoaster ride of a day they just made it through, from the confrontation with Bruce, to the revelations about Other B’s well-meant interference, to the surreal experience of watching Princess Bride with all his assorted hodgepodge of a family gathered together in one room.

_I really need to get in touch with Other Tim, check in and see how things are going over there, and let him know about all this craziness._

Jason reaches behind his head to pull his shirt off and then stretches, grinning and flexing when he notices Tim watching him.

_Holy shit Jay’s so sexy, hngh… Okay, maybe Other Tim can wait a while longer._

Tim snorts at his stunningly hot boyfriend’s ridiculous antics, then lapses into staring again, admiring the intricate, beautiful temporary art still displayed on Jason’s finely sculpted, scarred chest. “That’s so gorgeous, Jay. How’d you get the idea for a phoenix?”

Jason flushes. “Been thinkin’ about it for a while, actually. Rebirth, goin’ down in flames and rising from the ashes and all that. I like that it hides most of my worst scars, too…” He shrugs, giving a lopsided, surprisingly vulnerable smile.

Tim reaches out and gently brushes his fingers along Jason’s jaw, cupping his cheek in his hand and leaning up on his tiptoes to give him a soft kiss. “It’s real, isn’t it.” He smirks.

Jay starts, then looks abashed. “I shoulda known you’d figure that out so fast. Yeah, it is. Been thinkin’ ‘bout gettin’ a phoenix inked on my heart for a long time now, and then when I saw what Damian designed after I told him what I wanted…” He trails off, swallowing, and runs his fingers through his hair while laughing shakily. “Brat’s an amazing artist, and once he sent over the drawing… It just felt right, y’know? So I took his design to a guy I know and got it done, then just pretended to put the temporary one on while the rest of you guys were getting ready in Bat Brat’s room.”

Tim tilts his head as he rapidly reviews his memories of the morning preparations, then huffs a laugh as he realizes yes, Jay could totally have gotten away with hiding a real tattoo from the rest of them. Only… “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Didn’t wanna distract anyone from the main mission. Also…” Jay looks at Tim hesitantly. “You… I know you’re into piercings, but I never really asked how you feel about ink, or about _me_ getting piercings again.”

Tim’s eyes widen. _Oh my god how could he think I’d have any kind of problem with that? Honestly, every time I think Jason can’t possibly get any more attractive he does something like_ this _and proves me wrong. Wait, so does that mean Jay’s piercings are real too?!_

Jason’s laughing, tugging Tim in for a soft kiss and trying to capture his hands as they explore, searching for possible nipple piercings. “Yeah, Baby, that’s exactly what it means. Also, you said all that out loud, in case you weren’t sure.”

_Ugh I hate how my brain to mouth filter turns off when I’m tired, whatever, that’s not important right now. Which ones? I can’t find the nipple piercings, so maybe…_

“This one, Baby,” Jason growls, pulling Tim into a _deep_ kiss that leaves no doubt whatsoever in Tim’s mind which of Jay’s piercings is the real one.

“Mmmmph…” Tim wraps his arms around Jay’s shoulders and his legs around his waist as Jason chuckles warmly at his enthusiastic response and takes his weight easily, hands dropping to support under his thighs with a teasing little squeeze.

“Yeah, so as you just figured out, the tongue stud’s real, Baby Bird. I’m lookin’ forward to enjoying that with you. Thank fuck I still heal on the fast side, woulda sucked to be mumblin’ around a swollen tongue all day, not to mention kinda givin’ away the damn thing’s real and spoiling the surprise for you.” He gives Tim a dopey grin.

Tim tightens his grip on his boyfriend, pushing his face into Jay’s neck to hide the sadness he can’t keep from showing on his face when he thinks about _why_ Jason has a bit of a faster healing factor. He’s glad Jay got _something_ positive out of his many traumatic experiences, but nothing can really make up for what he endured.

After a moment, Tim leans back and pulls away from a softly smiling Jason to get another look at the stunning art on his broad chest. It takes his breath away, the incredibly detailed, graceful bird rising up in flames over his heart, fiery wings outspread toward his shoulders. Tim’s never minded any of Jason’s scars, but he is aware they bother Jason, a constant reminder of the damage that has been done to him by others.

_This is a sign of how far Jay’s come, how much he’s healed, that he’s ready to face what happened and rewrite the story on his skin. I’m so glad._

Tim admires the red and black detail, wanting to touch but knowing he should wait until Jay’s farther along in the healing process. Speaking of… “I’m surprised you had time to get such a big, complicated tattoo all at once like that. Don’t they usually break it up into sessions for something like this?”

Jay rubs a hand on the back of his neck, shifting his weight on his feet. “Uh, actually, yeah, this is just the line work. I still gotta go back to get the shading, then again in a few weeks to get the color added.”

Tim carefully runs a finger just outside of the beautiful, intricate line work on the tip of the left wing, his brow furrowing in confusion as he thinks about what Jay just said. “But there's already color, red. It looks spectacular.”

Jason chuckles at his boyfriend as he corrects him. “Baby Bird, that's just skin irritation and blood. It’ll go away as the tat heals.”

Tim recoils, jerking his hand back and directing a horrified expression at Jason. "Ew," he complains mildly. “Is that normal?”

“Yeah, pretty standard. The fuck is _that_ look for? You touch my blood all the time, patching me up after patrol!” Jason laughs at Tim's disgruntled look.

“That's different.” Somehow. His eyes widen. “Jay! Have you been following the care instructions? Were you even supposed to _uncover_ it yet?”

Jason looks slightly guilty as he blusters. “I told you, healing factor.”

_That means he definitely wasn’t. Damn it, Jay!_

“Your healing isn't _that_ strong, Jason, you can still get infections!”

Jason gives him an exaggerated leer. “Does that mean you don’t wanna rub in the special lotion for me?”

Tim blinks in confusion. “You need help for that? I mean, you can easily reach your own chest…”

“Course I can, just thought you'd be interested in an opportunity to put your hands all over me.”

 _Well, when you put it like_ that… Tim smirks wickedly. “Yeah, you _definitely_ thought right.”

Jason grins at him happily, catching his hand and pulling him close. “C’mere, shower first.”

And oh, _yeah,_ suddenly that is exactly where Tim wants to be right now. Other Tim can _definitely_ wait a little longer.

*

 **_Red:_ ** _Wow sounds like the past few days have been pretty crazy for you, too_

 **_Other Tim:_ ** _Yeah, the weirdest part was probably seeing a version of myself in a freaking catsuit tongue-kissing Damian_

 **_Red:_ ** _Gross_

_**Other Tim:** Although watching Dick in a Star Sapphire bikini costume practically dry-humping Cat-Jay in the Cave while B watched in horrified dismay was totally a contender_

**_Red:_ ** _Hahaha. Also, gross._

_**Red:** Wait wtf I just thought of something_

**_Other Tim:_ ** _?_

 **_Red:_ ** _So now your universe got rid of both Ra's AND Joker, AND reformed Ivy, Harley, Riddler and Two Face? SERIOUSLY_

 **_Other Tim:_ ** _Yup pretty much_

 **_Red:_ ** _Omg how is this fair, we still have all those villains in this universe. Who do you even have left to fight over there, fucking CALENDAR MAN?!_

 **_Other Tim:_ ** _Well, your Jay has a tongue piercing, that kind of balances things out?_

 **_Red:_ ** _Word. Okay I guess that makes things pretty equal between our universes_

_**Other Tim:** Haha yeah, unless I convince MY Jay to do the same… ;)_

**_Red: …_ ** _You bastard_

_**Other Tim:** Mother would take offense to that, considering the implications. I wonder if she has this phone hacked?_

**_Red:_ ** _Aaaa don’t say things like that, you know whenever someone speaks or writes her name it summons her_

 **_Other Tim:_ ** _Welp let’s just hope for your sake Mother doesn’t figure out the intricacies of multiversal travel any time soon…_

 **_Red:_ ** _…why do you put these ideas in my head. WHY_

 **_Other Tim:_ ** _:)_

 **_Other Tim:_ ** _Huh B just sent me something, g2g, enjoy that tongue stud_

 **_Red:_ ** _ttyl oh hells yeah I’ll get right on that ;)_

*

Jason steps into their room and pauses, hand on the door as he stares at his stricken boyfriend in startled dismay. “Prettyboy? You okay there?” He hurries over and gathers Tim gently in his arms, worry written on his handsome face.

Tim struggles to get a hold of himself, wiping away the tears as he manages to calm down and reassure his anxious, protective boyfriend.

“It's fine, Jay. I’m okay. B just forwarded me some texts the Bruce in my original universe sent him to pass along to me. Apparently he sent them a while ago, and B here was just waiting to give them to me when he was sure my original Bruce wasn’t going to start backsliding because he didn’t want me to be disappointed.”

“Did that asshole say somethin' to you, Prettyboy?” Jason’s brows lower and he glares at the phone in Tim’s hand ferociously, looking like he’d willingly do battle with it in Tim’s honor if he just said the word.

Tim wipes his eyes, still fighting a strange combination of laughter and tears. “No, Jay, nothing like that. It's actually… really good? I mean, he's apologizing for all these things that were never really his fault to begin with… It’s just, I wasn't even really his responsibility, so it isn’t _his_ bad that I got left alone a lot as a kid…” He trails off as Jason starts to growl.

“Bullshit. The second he accepted you in that suit, you were _his,_ to take care of and protect, no matter how you got there.”

Tim smiles a little at his boyfriend’s defensiveness, feeling warm and safe in Jay’s loving embrace. “Well, it seems he agrees with you on that front now. He says he's sorry, for not taking better care of me.” Tim blinks, then whispers. “He's… proud of me, and he loves me.” Tim sniffles as more tears well up in his eyes.

Jason presses a gentle kiss to Tim’s cheek, then regards him with confusion now mixing with the concern and love in his steady blue eyes. “Okay… so you’re having an emotional moment, got it. But what I don’t get is why you’re also laughing?”

Snorting, Tim spins the phone so Jay can see the screen. _“You_ try to take a life affirming, emotionally charged message from your distant, emotionally unavailable father figure in another universe seriously when it's addressed as having been sent from _Buttman!”_

“Oh my god.”

“Right?”

*

Bruce watches the children sparring in what looks to be one hell of a free for all in the Cave training area, a loose alliance formed by Timmy, Damian and Steph teaming up against Tim and Jason, with Dick leaping and spinning over their heads and dropping down periodically to wreak havoc on anyone not paying sufficient attention to their surroundings.

Cass is creeping up silently behind Jason, a look of unholy glee on her face. In the time it takes Bruce to blink, she has the boy laid out on the ground and pinned, only for both of them to be tackled by a grinning Dick who retreats immediately afterwards, cackling, back into the upper reaches of the Cave.

In the background, Tim slowly collapses to his knees under the combined onslaught of Timmy, Damian and Steph, seemingly unable to cope without Jason's support. The kids cheer and miss the hidden smirk on Tim’s face, leaving them totally unprepared for his cunning counterattack which sends Steph bowling into Timmy, and Damian flying through the air toward a surprised Dick, who catches him with a pleased exclamation.

Nearby, Kon is practically vibrating with excitement, waiting for his turn. Bruce overheard something earlier about Kon wanting to take on all the Bat children simultaneously. Bruce suspects the upcoming match will be both extremely entertaining and significantly shorter than the cocky young boy is anticipating.

Barbara and Alfred are chatting near the Batcomputer, clearly lingering in the Cave in order to have front row seats for the young Kryptonian’s soon to be crushing defeat.

A soft chuckle draws Bruce’s attention back to his side where Clark stands, an inexpressibly fond look in his eyes as he watches Bruce instead of the kids. “You’re doing such a good job with them, you know.”

“I hope so.” Bruce allows himself an unguarded smile of appreciation, enjoying Clark’s answering grin. The Kents’ presence in the Cave feels surprisingly natural, both of them slotting into the family so simply and easily Bruce finds himself wondering why he ever thought he had to be concerned. His family is strong, made of survivors, and it would take far more than a new significant other to upset their equilibrium for long.

He inhales, then releases his breath at a slow, measured pace. Their unexpected guests have departed, returning to their home universe through a stable portal in a flurry of well-wishes and good natured teasing, Bryce and Alfreida both visible waiting impatiently on the other side to welcome them home. Bruce’s children are all home and there is currently no calamitous, looming threat to fight.

They’re all safe.

Everyone he loves is here in the Cave, out of harm’s way and enjoying themselves. The furor over the Joker turned out to be all smoke and mirrors, designed to distract Bruce long enough for the wily alternate versions of his children to enact a more permanent, but still somewhat merciful solution to that headache.

The Joker’s crystalline prison is safely in the hands of the Justice League, likely to remain there far into the indefinite future.

Even the Bruce in the other universe seems to be doing well; according to Tim, Red and his brothers, while initially stunned by the knowledge their Bruce had not been compromised, are tentatively benefitting from his efforts at improving relationships in their family.

Still… it probably wouldn’t hurt to check in.

As though summoned by the thought, a soft chime draws his attention to the multiversal phone.

*

_**Buttman:** Do you know what it is like to be interrogated and cavity searched by your own children_

_**Batman:** …_

_**Buttman:** DO YOU_

_**Batman:** Thankfully I do not_

**_Buttman:_ ** _They were fighting the entire time. The only thing all the boys agreed upon was that by no means should Damian be the one to do it_

 **_Batman:_ ** _Well that is reasonable_

_**Buttman:** Dick and Jason argued about who should perform the search, Jason claiming it to be Dick’s duty as the eldest, and Dick stating that Jason should be grateful for the chance to remove the stick he apparently frequently claims exists within my posterior_

**_Batman:_ ** _…_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Tim snapped on a pair of nitrile gloves while the others were arguing, and was finished by the time they noticed he had moved_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _It was the most supremely awkward moment of my life and if Tim is traumatized it is your fault_

 **_Batman:_ ** _Tim is incredibly resilient and compartmentalizes well he will be fine_

 **_Batman:_ ** _I do not regret contacting you, nor the means by which I influenced you to take action_

 **_Batman:_ ** _But I believe I owe you an apology, for judging you as I have_

 **_Batman:_ ** _It is deceptively easy to make mistakes while parenting_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _What did you do_

 **_Batman:_ ** _Failed to inform anyone I have been involved in a romantic relationship with Clark for over six months_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Wait what_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _CLARK_

 **_Batman:_ ** _What is wrong with Clark_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _…_

 **_Batman:_ ** _Never mind you are going to brood about this for days now aren’t you_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Maybe_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _…_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Congratulations. He is a good man_

 **_Batman:_ ** _Thank you._

 **_Batman:_ ** _And thank you for following through on the Plan. Tim tells me Red and the others are much happier_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _I am grateful for your intervention. Although I am unamused by your manipulations._

 **_Batman:_ ** _What manipulations I did not manipulate you_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Stop being obtuse we both know you did and you were laughing the whole time you bastard_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Loathe though I am to admit this, I need to thank you for threatening me with so many varied hellscapes across the multiverse_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Where the boys were in relationships that could have been designed expressly to appall me_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Had you not done so, I would have reacted much more poorly to learning about Tim and Jason_

 **_Batman:_ ** _I worked hard to find all those universes and am satisfied you appreciate my effort on your behalf_

 **_Batman:_ ** _You’re welcome_

**_Batman: (•_•)_ **

**_Buttman:_ ** _No_

 **_Batman:_ ** _( •_•) >⌐_ _■-_ _■_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Don’t you dare_

 **_Batman:_ ** _(⌐_ _■__ _■)_

 **_Buttman:_ ** _Asshole_

*

Bruce is trying and failing not to smile as he lowers the multiversal phone. Other Bruce is a terrible, troublesome person and Bruce grudgingly admits he will owe the bothersome man a deep debt of gratitude for the remainder of his life.

_Thank God he took the time to interfere, and show me where I went wrong._

Bruce leans back in his chair, sipping his coffee and musing over might-have-beens. _Clark, huh,_ he thinks, and the idea is surprisingly palatable. Although the glimpse into the other universe of a Batman happily partnered with Selina also awakened a yearning for companionship Bruce had thought himself long past.

_Time enough to sort that out later. For now, I must focus on my immediate family and their needs._

A throat clearing at his elbow draws him back to himself, and he glances up at his dear old friend. “Yes, Alfred?”

“Simply inquiring regarding your plans for the day, sir.” The twinkle in Alfred’s eye belies his severe demeanor. “Will you require dinner?”

“Ah, no, Alfred, not today. I’m meeting Dick at his apartment, and Jason is going to attempt to teach us how to cook shrimp fettucine alfredo.”

Alfred’s brows rise nearly imperceptibly and he delicately inquires, “Ah, are you _certain_ that is a wise idea, sir? Master Dick’s culinary mishaps are legendary, and yours if I may say so put Master Dick’s achievements to shame.”

Bruce snorts, shaking his head. “No, I am far from sure it is the best idea, but Jason seems excited. Though I suspect Dick’s well-known ability to transform any ingredients into charcoal and flames is behind Jason’s insistence we do this at _Dick’s_ apartment rather than his.”

“Very good, sir. Will Masters Damian and Tim be there as well?”

“Yes, and I strongly suspect the girls are planning to put in an appearance, at least to watch the show. Barbara will doubtless be collecting further blackmail material, as though she needs any more of that at this point. We were hoping to give you a night off, Alfred; you certainly more than deserve it.”

“I’m sure I won’t know what to do with myself.” Alfred’s facial expression doesn’t change in the slightest, but he manages to convey an expectant air.

Bruce regards Alfred knowingly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “If I invite you to join us, is there any way I can convince you there is no need for you to prepare a full meal for everyone, and just allow yourself a break?”

And Alfred permits himself a smile then, kindly old eyes twinkling fondly. “None at all, sir. In fact, I am already planning the courses. With yourself and Master Dick involved, I fear not even Master Jason’s not insubstantial culinary skill will be up to the task of preserving dinner.”

Bruce shakes his head, smirking, and takes another sip of coffee. “Have it your way, Alfred,” he chuckles, already imagining the smoke alarms, mishaps and laughter followed by excellent food and company to match.

_This is going to be a good day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tim, eying half-naked Jason suspiciously:** “Omg that tattoo is REAL isn’t it” *Dives into Jason’s arms, overcome by desire for his smokin’ hot boyfriend*  
>  **Jason, between tongue-kissing Tim:** “Fuck yeah it is, also the tongue stud” *Growls* “I got IDEAS about that one, Baby…”  
>  **Tim, texting with Other Tim on multiversal phone:** “Mmm hmm. Sounds good, Jay” *Continues to text distractedly until Jason drags him into the shower and demonstrates uses for his new tongue stud* “OMG OK DONE TEXTING NOW, JAY DO THAT AGAIN!”  
>  *  
>  **Jason, spotting Other Tim near tears and panicking:** “Fuck Prettyboy what happened?” *Gently wipes tears away, scanning room for intruders or threats*  
>  **Other Tim, sniffling adorably:** “Nothing Jay I just found out B in the other universe is sorry for my shitty childhood for some unaccountable reason, haha crazy right?” *Accepts Jason-cuddles happily*  
>  **Jason, petting Other Tim:** “Okaaay someday we’ll manage to work through your automatic acceptance of all the shit that happened to you before, I assume it’s a coping mechanism but it’s worrying. Wait, does that say BUTTMAN?!” *Dissolves into laughter with Other Tim, saving emotional moments for later*  
>  *  
>  **Other Bruce, watching family with deep feeling of contentment:** “I should probably check on Buttman and make sure he hasn’t managed to screw everything up while I was busy” *Texts original Bruce*  
>  **Buttman, accusingly:** “I hate you, it’s your fault I was cavity searched by TIM” *Glares intensely at multiversal phone*  
>  **Other Bruce, laughing meanly:** “Why is that a problem Tim’s fingers are small and delicate you should be grateful it wasn’t one of the older two” *Valiantly suppresses mental images of any such thing*  
>  **Buttman, resentfully:** “Any of them would have been traumatic, you suck” *Totally fails to repress mental images of what it would have been like if older two had performed cavity search, shudders so hard he drops phone*  
>  **Other Bruce, being a little shit:** “Now whenever we see the name ‘Buttman’ we’ll both think of this” *Smirks, delighted to have planted that idea*  
>  **Buttman:** “I AM HATE” *Smiles fondly at phone, tucks it carefully into pocket while plotting revenge against Other Bruce*
> 
> *  
> Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, or given kudos to this story! This has been fun to write and I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it. 
> 
> So I just found out today the schedule for a massive deliverable I’m preparing at work has been moved up, which means I now have to somehow compress two months of intensive technical writing and research into one month, holy shit. So the last chapter of this story (a short, fluffy epilogue set in the original universe) probably won’t be finished and posted for a while, depending on exactly how brain dead I am after work. Hope you enjoy once I (eventually) get there! 
> 
> Also, thanks again to tattooedfanperson for the suggestion to include tattoos and piercings in this universe, and for Jason’s tattoo. This would have been a very different story without your ideas! 
> 
> :D


	11. Epilogue

Bruce gingerly holds the oblong plastic device which has been thrust into his hands, eying it mistrustfully as though it were a bomb or a dead mouse and not the controller for the computer game his children are so insistent he play with them.

“Like this,” Tim bites back an amused smile as he flips the controller in Bruce’s hands so he is holding the grips properly. The array of buttons and toggles seems overly complicated, and Bruce frowns. Seeing the expression, Tim’s face falls. “I mean, unless you’d rather not. You really don’t have to play if you don’t want to, B.” He smiles again, but it’s dimmer than before and Bruce winces internally.

_Why am I so bad at this._

“Of course I want to play, Tim.” Failing miserably at some ridiculous computer game for a few hours is a small price to pay for all of his children willingly spending time with him.

Not to mention, for whatever reason, _this_ is Alfred’s activity of choice for his birthday celebration, so there is absolutely no way Bruce will refuse to participate. Even if it _does_ render him a laughingstock as he ham-handedly mashes buttons and accidentally walks his character off cliffs while his children mock him endlessly.

Actually, that is very likely the point; his children seem to gain endless amusement from making Bruce look ridiculous. He sighs internally, wondering idly how many embarrassing photos and videos of him they’ll be passing around amongst themselves later to commemorate this event.

Probably a lot. He smothers a smile.

Focusing on the large screen, Bruce realizes the scene depicted before him appears very… _familiar._ “Is this… _Gotham?”_

“Oh, shit, you didn’t know what we’re gonna play, B?” The expression of delighted surprise on Jason’s face is definitely a warning sign Bruce would do well to heed. Steph twists in her chair, grinning in a way that causes Bruce to feel distinctly uncomfortable about the chosen entertainment for the evening. Damian, seated on the floor in front of the couch and stroking Alfred the cat’s back in a disturbingly supervillain-like manner, smiles diabolically at Bruce who blinks back at him with a sensation of gathering dread.

_Anything for my children…_

Cass catches Bruce’s eye and smiles, then shrugs apologetically and he feels the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. He can handle a little embarrassment in a good cause.

Alfred, ensconced in a nearby armchair with his feet resting comfortably on an ottoman, clears his throat gently. “I, ah, chose to allow Master Bruce the pleasure of being surprised. I merely informed him of the intention to hold a family game night.”

“In _your_ honor, Alfred! Happy birthday!” Dick grins as he enters carrying a tray bearing an assortment of tea, coffee, and a delicious-looking array of cookies and cakes, followed by Barbara who is balancing another tray on her lap as she wheels forward to come to a rest beside Alfred. Titus trots in behind them, tail wagging hopefully until the large dog spots Damian and attempts to climb onto the boy’s lap, resulting in a brief scuffle before Alfred the cat leaps to the relative safety of Alfred the human and Titus settles for just resting his head on Damian’s thigh.

Watching them, Bruce feels absurdly fond and protective of his youngest, whose great capacity for love and tenderness shines brightest when interacting with his pets.

 _I’m glad the animals seem none the worse for having been locked in Damian’s room for the duration of my supposed compromised state. Although the condition of that_ rug _when it was all over… thank goodness Damian didn’t try to keep Batcow in there as well, or we probably would have had to replace the floorboards in addition to the carpet. As it is, the conservatory will never be the same._

Bruce eyes the food Dick is carrying with suspicion until the boy notices him looking and rolls his eyes. “Relax, B, Jay and Damian made these earlier. I promise all I did was plate it all up and carry it in here!”

Remembering the horrible, traumatizing catastrophe that was his first and only attempt to cook with his oldest son, and the resulting overflowing saucepans, scorched but paradoxically still uncooked pasta, and shrimp parts scattered all over Dick’s kitchen like the macabre aftermath of an explosive crustacean massacre, Bruce shudders in relief.

He had somehow found shrimp heads in his _shoes_ after that fiasco. _In_ his _shoes._ Just… _looking_ at him with their beady little eyes. Staring. _Accusing._ Bruce’s right eye twitches faintly at the memory.

_Although I still suspect Jason may have placed those in my shoes intentionally, taking advantage of the opportunity afforded him by my distraction…_

Jason had left the kitchen for a mere _five minutes_ to get something from the other room and returned to find Dick’s kitchen a warzone and their dinner a chaotic mess strewn over every conceivable surface, with a stunned Bruce and Dick attempting feebly to contain the damage and their audience of Babs, Steph and Tim laughing themselves to tears while Cass stood helpfully by with a fire extinguisher and Alfred quietly unpacked the hamper containing his backup dinner.

Jason had laid down the law, once he was able to catch his breath after laughing at their terrible, disastrous ineptitude until he couldn’t breathe; from now on, he’s willing to give cooking lessons to Dick _or_ Bruce, but never both at the same time. And _definitely_ never in his own kitchen.

“Ah, thank you, Master Dick. Are you certain you do not require my assistance…?” Alfred accepts a cup of tea, sipping from it carefully as everyone turns to watch his reaction with wide, expectant eyes, and then gives a soft twinkle of approval. “Excellent cup. Master Jason’s work, I take it?”

“Yup, and you just stay right there with your feet up, Alfie! Let _us_ take care of _you_ for once.” Jason grabs a cup off the tray and settles down on the end of the couch near Alfred, sharing a bright smile with his grandfather. Looking at them together, a helpless feeling of warmth tightens almost painfully in Bruce’s chest.

It’s almost disconcertingly wonderful and he wonders what he could possibly have done to deserve _this_.

“So what game _are_ we playing?” Bruce cautiously adjusts the various mysterious toggles, causing what is apparently his character, which he now sees closely resembles Batman, to walk jerkily forward through what is _definitely_ a surprisingly accurate depiction of Old Gotham.

He stiffens and his face heats uncomfortably as Batman on the screen walks directly into a building and bounces off, causing a noise not unlike a snort to emerge from Damian, to the boy’s evident embarrassment. Jason and Steph both laugh out loud and call out advice which doesn’t sound very helpful; Bruce ignores it and continues his painstaking navigation himself.

Tim smiles, cheeks tinging a faint red. “Well, actually it’s the game I created for my final project in my Computer Game Design Class.”

That pings a faint recollection for Bruce, who frowns. “The one you were worried about? You mentioned your group was giving you trouble.” He can’t help but wince internally at the look of surprise that crosses his son’s face at Bruce remembering a simple detail of the boy’s life.

_I still have so far to go to before they truly trust me to wish to remain involved in their lives. No matter; I will do what it takes to show them._

Recovering, Tim nods. “Yeah, that’s the one. Things actually ended up working out.” A little smile steals onto his face.

Jason snorts, brows lowering. “Yeah, all the damn assholes in his assigned group left him to do all the fuckin’ work by himself, and he was up till all hours every night coding till he practically collapsed on his keyboard last night finishing it all up.” He glowers, crossing his arms sullenly over his chest and glaring at his tea as though it were solely responsible for Tim’s troubles.

Babs chuckles. “It got so bad I had to intervene because in his sleep-deprived state he started trying to recode the whole game to be a weird crossover between _Dungeons and Dragons_ , and _Tron_. I had to remotely cut him off before he rewrote over all his hard work.”

“Wait… I thought that was a dream!” Tim looks at Babs, mouth dropped open slightly in surprise.

“No, kiddo, it really happened.” She grins, shaking her head at him fondly. “After I cut you off, Jason carried you to bed. Actually, maybe it _was_ a dream for you, and you were sleep-coding. Either way, we had your back! Although if you _do_ decide to make a crossover game between Dungeons and Dragons and Tron someday, I’d play it.” She accepts a plate of cookies from Dick, who winks at her in a way that reminds Bruce of when those two were younger, and closer, with the romantic idealism of youth.

Bruce smiles faintly at the memory, then frowns at the subject matter under discussion. Tim is delicate and needs his sleep. “And your professor allowed this?” Heads turn toward him, and he realizes he allowed some of Batman’s growl into his voice.

 _Perhaps Batman is_ exactly _what this situation requires…_

“Father is correct; allowing such behavior to pass in an educational institution will merely encourage such dishonest and unacceptable behavior later in life, which will ultimately result in more criminals for us to deal with once these fools graduate on their ill-gotten merits and begin embezzling, committing industrial espionage or otherwise continuing their reprehensible behavior.” Damian scowls, then sputters as Titus licks his entire face from chin to forehead in an effort to reassure him.

Tim blinks in surprise as Jason breaks into loud chuckles at his brother’s plight and tries to encourage Titus to do it again before being silenced by Alfred with a gentle but admonishing look.

Bruce allows part of his mind to begin planning the best way to subtly punish the professor and Tim’s asinine group for their transgressions while his main attention is focused on continuing to listen to his children, and a small portion of his mind is devoted to not allowing his game character to walk into any more walls or wander into the busy streets.

It’s surprisingly difficult.

Tim shrugs, continuing to focus on the action unfolding in the screen. “Actually, the situation worked itself out, surprisingly. The professor was really impressed with the project, and she called my whole group up to the front of the lecture hall to congratulate us on our hard work. She started casually asking about different aspects of the game she was interested in, and within a few sentences it was _painfully_ obvious none of the others had any idea what she was talking about.” Tim raises his coffee mug to his mouth and drinks, sighing in satisfaction.

 _In that case, perhaps Batman does not need to visit the professor… just the other members of Tim’s group._ Bruce adjusts his mental plan accordingly.

“Damn, Baby, that's fuckin' great. Those lazy assholes get in trouble?”

Tim smirks. “Well, the final project was half the course grade, so they're damn lucky she offered them an incomplete instead of failing them. They get to retake the course, and _I_ get an offer from a developer who wants to officially produce and distribute my game.”

“Holy _shit_ that’s _amazeballs,_ Timmy!” Steph’s joyful exclamation is… _enthusiastic,_ like everything about her.

Bruce can’t quite suppress his smile at the way the young woman has been willing to spend time here. He rubs his jaw, which still twinges once in a while when he remembers the impressive right hook she treated him to, once he finally managed to get her in a room to apologize for his past behavior toward her. As he watches the lively, grinning blonde talking animatedly with the others, here and _safe_ like she always should have been, Bruce doesn’t regret the pain at all.

_It’s worth it._

Tim grins at their surprise. “That's what the prof was leading up to when she called us all up; she was planning to tell us all that one of her former students who is now a game developer was interested and wanted to invest in our project. She was even more impressed once she realized I did it all by myself.”

Tim looks down, flushing slightly in embarrassment, as though he believes himself undeserving of the praise and attention. “Wants me to think about adding another minor, in game design, and keep in touch with that former student of hers about more opportunities down the line.”

“Is that something you would like to pursue?” Bruce never imagined Tim going into computer game design, but a career or even a hobby in software development might be good for him. He certainly has the skills, and this would provide a more aboveboard opportunity to showcase them than anything Bruce has ever given the boy.

He shrugs. “I'm thinking about it. But it would extend my schooling by at least a semester, to fit in the extra classes. I was planning to go back into Wayne Enterprises after graduation…” He bites his lip uncertainly.

“Tim. Take as long as you need. Your place will always be there for you.” Bruce watches Tim duck his head to hide his smile, tiny loops and studs in his ears catching the light as he moves like a reminder of the personality and dreams the boy is so quick to put aside when not given sufficient encouragement and support. Well, Bruce will definitely be making more of an effort to provide that needed support from now on. Starting with… “Your group. What were their names.”

Jason grins maliciously as Dick chokes on laughter and Damian smirks while Babs rolls her eyes and accepts money from a grumbling Steph. Alfred serenely pours another cup of tea for Cass, who observes them all with laughter dancing in her dark, shining eyes.

Tim's head snaps up as his eyes widen, then narrow in suspicion. “Bruce. _Bruce._ You can't show up in students’ apartments dressed as Batman to terrorize them for being lazy!”

“Hn.”

 _I can if I want to. I’m the goddamn_ Batman.

Something of what Bruce is thinking must show in his face, because Tim’s brows fly up. _“Bruce!”_

“Tim, would you mind giving me a tutorial on how to use this control device? I think it’s broken,” Bruce shamelessly changes the subject and smirks internally at successfully distracting Tim, who immediately leans forward to inspect Bruce’s completely undamaged control device.

Jason snorts, clearly seeing through Bruce’s tactics but choosing not to intervene, probably because he wants vengeance against Tim’s annoying classmates just as much as Bruce does, and picks up another controller. “C’mon old man, let’s see what you got.” And the look he sends Bruce is the same challenging, wide and happy grin he used to wear when he was a boy, flying through the crisp night air and laughing like nothing would ever hurt him.

Bruce’s heart tightens and _twists,_ and he blinks stinging eyes rapidly while swallowing convulsively around the lump which has unaccountably formed in his throat.

 _I never thought I’d see Jay-lad smile like that again…_ A tremulous smile forms on his face and he knows if anyone glances over at him right now he’ll embarrass himself with the soft look in his eyes. He can’t bring himself to care.

The sound of Jason’s delighted cackling draws Bruce’s attention abruptly back to the screen, where a character who looks suspiciously like Red Hood has just shoved Batman into an open manhole. Stunned, Bruce stares at the screen, where an uncomfortable-looking Batman stands waist-deep in horribly detailed, realistic-looking sewage. Something unmentionable floats slowly by as they all stare at the screen in shock and Jason continues laughing uproariously.

Bruce’s eyes narrow. _Oh, I’ll show you all right… just remember, you_ asked _for this._

A moment later, a sputtering Jason is demanding a surprised Tim explain how the _hell_ Bruce managed to use the grapple to do that while he desperately tries to navigate Red Hood out of the sewers with an angry Killer Croc on his tail. Bruce, having managed to navigate his character back up to street level after dragging Red Hood down into the sewers, spots some gang activity nearby.

“Tim,” he says, watching what looks like a gang war beginning to break out on the city streets, “exactly how many of us can play at the same time?”

Tim’s face lights up in an excited grin, and Bruce doesn’t even try to suppress his answering smile as the other begin clamoring for controllers and the screen suddenly splits into a confusing plethora of viewpoints to accommodate all of the players entering the game.

Red Robin drops into the sewer between Red Hood and Killer Croc just in time to prevent the criminal from chomping his boyfriend’s character in half. “Thanks, Babe,” Jason says, dropping a kiss on Tim’s hair in a gesture of casual affection that is becoming more and more commonplace, the longer Bruce spends in the boys’ company.

“There’s a drug deal going down at the Docks,” Babs reports, and voices immediately chime in response.

 _This does not seem like the most logical activity to take our minds off the Mission on our night off together,_ Bruce thinks as he navigates Batman toward the action, joining Nightwing and Robin halfway there and spotting Spoiler and Black Bat converging on the target in the distance, silhouetted against the city skyline.

An explosion lights the night sky and rocks them all off their feet, accompanied by Jason’s delighted whoop and Tim’s happy laughter, and Bruce smiles as Nightwing swoops overhead wearing what looks worryingly like Discowing. “There are options for our suits!” Dick grins happily. “You can choose any version!”

“Wait, what? Oh _fuck_ yeah.” And that’s Red Hood zipping past Batman on the rooftop, dressed in a version of his _old Robin costume_ with the laughably tiny green shorts, stretched almost obscenely over the large, strong adult body he’s grown into over the years as Jason laughs and laughs.

_Oh dear god what._

But now everyone is laughing, and chattering excitedly while playing together and exploring the detailed game world Tim created during what was apparently a sleep-deprived haze. As Bruce looks up, he meets Alfred’s eyes and is surprised to see a game controller held firmly in one hand while the other continues to lift a tea cup for the gentle old man to sip.

Alfred is _beaming,_ hand trembling slightly with suppressed joy as he watches his family interacting happily, and Bruce closes his eyes for a moment to try to get a handle on his surging emotions. His lips twitch in a happy little smile.

_Good choice, Alfred._

*

“Damn it, Batgirl just ran straight off a fuckin’ cliff when I tried to do Nightwing's stupid flippy shit!”

 _Jason you dork, what the heck did you_ think _was going to happen?_

Tim rolls his eyes at his aggrieved boyfriend, glancing up briefly from his own portion of the split screen to explain. “Well of _course_ she did; Nightwing’s the only character in the game with his agility stat maximized! His charm’s also set freakishly high; he can basically talk an NPC into doing anything, unlike the rest of us. So the other characters can’t keep up with his moves, which means you have to focus on _their_ individual inbuilt strengths to get ahead.”

Tim switches controllers with Jason while he’s speaking, to demonstrate. “For example, when you’re playing Steph you have to take advantage of her ability to keep going even in the face of dire adversity; watch this!”

On the screen, the blonde Steph character in the Batgirl suit charges into a giant mob of thugs in the Bowery and takes a horrific beating as everyone pauses their own gameplay to watch in horror. At the crucial moment in which Batgirl’s life bar dwindles to a tiny red sliver, she appears to experience a revitalizing second wind and leaps back to her feet, proceeding to lay waste to them all in a glorious battle that ends with the thugs unconscious and Batgirl shouting triumphantly up at the dark, brooding Gotham sky.

“Wait… Ex-Boyfriend, did you make me your game’s version of the _Hulk?!”_ Steph looks like she can’t quite decide between feeling flattered or offended. She’ll probably end up going with flattered; Hulk’s _awesome._

“What? No, you just have a special moxy stat. Red Hood’s the one where I built in berzerker rage.”

“Oh? And how do I initiate that mode?” Damian presses a few buttons, then seems to think better of it and simply runs his character directly into another large mob of thugs, these dressed in lurid clown costumes.

_Well that’ll do it._

On the screen, Red Hood surges forward with a loud battle cry as the screen around him tinges lurid green. The end result is fairly similar to Batgirl’s outburst, except the resulting pile of thugs is larger and bloodier. “Disgusting,” Damian says gleefully as he directs the character toward another promising-looking warehouse, guns loaded with rubber bullets held at the ready.

“For fucks sake, Timmy, gimme back Steph! I don’t wanna hafta play as fuckin’ _Batman!”_ Jason paws at Tim with one huge meaty arm but fails to capture his slippery little boyfriend, who manages to crawl behind Dick on the couch and take shelter behind his big brother. “Damn it!” Jason stares at the screen in dismay. “Oh fuck the townspeople are forming a mob, I think they're gonna try to lynch B again.”

_Heh._

Bruce glowers at the screen where numerous NPCs are gathering ominously around Batman.

“Why do they keep doing that?” Dick’s brow furrows as he coordinates the Gotham defense from the Clocktower using Oracle’s considerable resources to send the others information about hot spots and threats. Tim shrugs unrepentantly, not regretting a thing.

“I wanted this version of the game to reflect real life as much as was feasible, so I made emotional intelligence B’s dump stat. It tends to make the NPCs a little… testy.” Tim tries to suppress a laugh and ends up snorting. “Um, that reminds me, who’s playing Robin right now?”

Bruce growls quietly and Tim smirks. “Ah, right. Yeah, you should watch out for that too. I made Damian’s dump stat tact, which ends up having much the same effect in NPC interactions so watch out for mobs I guess. Of course the other character attributes are balanced differently; B’s are weighted heavier towards intelligence while Damian’s strengths are more in his agility.”

“Drake, you are an insolent fool and I do not know why we are playing this asinine game!”

_Oh Dami, you’re just illustrating my point._

“See? His dump stat’s _totally_ tact.”

Steph yelps and jerks backwards into the couch as a huge fist descends on Red Robin’s head onscreen, only to be diverted at the last moment by Black Bat diving in and tackling the assailant. “Wait, why am I slowing down? I should have had that guy!” She glares impotently at the screen while Red Robin limps away from the attacker.

Tim sighs, shrugging apologetically. “Um, my strongest stat’s intelligence, like B and Babs, but for me the weak point’s stamina.” He shifts in his spot on the couch, wondering if maybe he shouldn’t have made this game _quite_ so accurate. What if…?

 _No, it’s safe. These are my family and… I can trust them. And the version of the game I turned in and am sending out for distribution is stripped of all the Gotham-specific stuff and individual identifiers, so it’s not like I’m giving these weaknesses away to anyone else. The other version’s just a generic fantasy setting where B’s a monk, Dick’s a paladin, Jason’s a death knight, Damian’s a ninja, Steph’s a rogue, and Cass is a warrior while Babs and I are mages. No bad guys are gonna get anything helpful from_ that.

 _Wow, maybe I_ did _spend too much time on this game…_

“Wait, what’s my weak point then?” Babs asks as she guides Nightwing easily through another series of improbable flips and somersaults.

Tim has the grace to look slightly guilty. “Agility?” _Oh god I’m the worst… I should’ve put in the extra hours to code a wheelchair into the game instead of just being lazy and giving her terrible agility! This is what happens when I’m sleep-deprived!_

Everyone pauses long enough to turn and just stare judgingly at Tim, who sinks into the couch to hide in shame. They then turn back to the game and resume their play, and Babs rolls her eyes at Tim but smiles, clearly not horribly offended.

_Whew._

Black Bat on the screen takes out the rest of the enemies surrounding her and Red Robin, then spins and takes to the sky with her grapple. “Ah, Miss Stephanie, if you would follow me to the Cave I suspect Red Robin will do better with the addition of some nourishment to replenish his reserves.”

“Holy shit,” Jason yelps, spinning to stare at Alfred in shock. “Alfie, when the fuck did _you_ start playin’?”

“Miss Cass played as herself for a time, but became bored with it once she realized the character’s strengths were stealth and fighting, while the weakness was communications. She wished to play as a character with different skills, so I, ah, traded with her.” Alfred allows himself a hint of a smile as he adeptly navigates Black Bat back to the computer game Cave, where a character closely resembling Alfred begins fussing over both Red Robin and Black Bat.

 _Wow. When did Alfred learn to play games like_ that? _He’s really good at this!_

Tim considers the question for a moment, then shrugs, chalking it up to yet another thing Alfred is mysteriously amazing at doing. Alfred’s just _Alfred;_ supreme competence seems to go with the territory for him.

“I like being Alfred,” Cass says, eyes fixed on the screen. “Wisdom. Patience.”

“Are those his strengths?” Steph asks, sighing with relief as she watches Red Robin’s health stats begin to creep back up on the screen as he eats the meal Alfred provided and accepts medical treatment in the Cave.

_Uh oh… Why didn’t I think this through when I agreed to let everyone play the game together tonight?_

“Um. Wisdom definitely is.” Tim avoids making eye contact with anyone as the silence grows. _I really shouldn’t have made patience Alfred’s weak point… Seriously, he shouldn’t even_ have _a weakness. He’s_ Alfred.

“Master Timothy. Are you implying I am not _patient?”_ The amount of awful dignity in Alfred’s voice increases ominously.

“Um…” Tim swallows nervously. “…No?”

“Excellent, Master Tim.” Alfred smirks as Tim swallows again. “After all, if I _am_ less than patient, I’m sure I have my reasons.” Tim nods hastily and Alfred finally lets him off the hook.

At that moment Jason bursts out, “The hell? This thing's still glitchy as shit, Timbo; why's that fuckin’ evil demon befriending Robin but trying to fight the rest of us?”

“Oh, that's not a glitch.” Everyone looks at Tim disbelievingly again and he hunches his shoulders defensively. “What?”

Babs snorts as she and Damian team up to have Nightwing attack the demon with his escrima as Red Hood works up another berserker rage to finally take the monster out. “I’m more interested in _why_ we’re fighting a demon in the middle of Gotham.”

Jason snorts, using Batman’s batarang to behead the demon while Nightwing and Red Hood have it distracted. “It’s _Gotham,_ Babs, of fuckin’ course there’s a demon.”

“Jason,” Bruce growls, and Jason’s brows fly up defensively.

“B, it’s a goddamn _demon._ In a fuckin’ _computer game!_ Are you really about to give me the ‘we don’t kill’ lecture in defense of a _fuckin’ pretend evil demon?”_

Bruce blinks. “What. No. What?” He shakes his head, then turns to glare at Jason with rising indignation. “I was in the middle of acquiring that demon with Robin’s beast taming skills! Having it as a steed would have given me a plus three to speed, the ability to cast curses on opponents, and countered the negative effects of my low tact stat by causing the non-player characters to obey me through fear.”

He glowers, folding his arms across his chest truculently as the rest of the family slowly turns to stare at him with raised brows.

“…Huh,” Dick says, still regarding Bruce carefully. “Okay… This was fun, but B’s getting a little _too_ involved in the game now so I think that’s about enough of that!” Logging out, he drops his controller and stands, presumably to gather more refreshments.

“For some reason I _really_ didn’t expect Bruce to be so into this,” Steph agrees. “It’s creepy.” She throws down her controller as well, leaning back and stretching.

“You didn’t expect _Bruce_ to be ridiculously competitive? I’m shocked.” Babs huffs a laugh as she logs out and sets her controller aside, rolling back to follow Dick.

Jason heaves a put-upon sigh and then presses the buttons to make Batman on the screen drop the demon head to the ground with a squishy thud. “Yeah, I guess I feel kinda bad about killin’ the demon now I know the hellspawn just wanted it for a pet…”

Damian scoffs. “Had _I_ desired it for a pet, you would never have managed to lay a hand upon it!”

“I mean game-you. Played by B. Who I was playing in the game. While you were playing me. Jesus fuck this is confusing, _damn.”_ Jason rubs the back of his neck with one big hand, a befuddled look on his face.

Babs laughs at his expression. “Well, the rest of us just swapped; Dick and I were playing each other, as were Steph and Tim, and Cass and Alfred. It was just _you_ three who had to go and make things more complicated.”

“I blame Bruce,” Jason mutters, and Damian snorts a laugh. Bruce doesn’t answer, and when the others glance at him they realize he’s the only one who hasn’t logged out yet.

“Still want to play some more, B?” Tim grabs the controller from Bruce’s hand and changes a few quick settings, then hands it back. “Might as well play as yourself for a while now that you have the hang of it.” He grins, pleased with the way this evening has turned out, a warm little flame of pride and happiness glowing within at the thought that the whole family’s been having so much fun with something _he_ made.

He looks around the room, gaze lingering affectionately on Alfred, who is nodding along to something Cass just whispered and smiling benignly, surrounded by his beloved family and practically buried in all the presents of books, teas, and various hand-knit blankets everyone gave him to celebrate his birthday.

Tim’s gaze travels to Bruce, who is still focusing on the screen with a look of deep concentration on his face, but nodding along and clearly paying attention to the advice Babs and Damian are calling out to him as he navigates the Batman character through Old Gotham toward the Tricorner Yards, always a hotbed of criminal activity. He’s wisely paying less heed to the directives Steph and Jason keep shouting at him, both snickering as they try to talk him into making hilarious newbie mistakes.

Staring at Bruce, Tim blinks rapidly as he notices something he can’t quite believe.

_Wait, is he…? Ohmygod._

“Bruce,” Tim says carefully, once he’s certain he isn’t hallucinating. “Um. Where did you get that shirt?”

Bruce blinks at him, clearly mildly confused by the question. “…My closet…?” The man pauses the game so he can look down at himself, and once he sees what’s printed on his shirt, his brows fly up to his hairline in one of the most obvious displays of astonishment Tim’s ever seen from the stoic man. _“What.”_ He blinks and continues to stare down at himself as though glaring hard enough will somehow change what’s printed on his chest.

Jason’s grinning and guffawing uproariously and Steph’s dissolved in a laughing, gasping heap on the ground in front of the couch, rendering it unnecessary to engage in much detective work to identify the culprits behind the _Buttman t-shirt_ Bruce is currently wearing and gazing down at with expression of abject horror as though he’s just realized he’s smeared in dog shit. Or maybe had a tiny little monster burst out of his chest, Alien-style.

Which, okay, isn’t that surprising, considering the design looks like an adulterated Bat symbol, with the black bat silhouette in the center elongated and altered so that it looks like a thong separating two round, yellow butt cheeks.

“Oh _fuck,”_ Jason gasps. “That’s fuckin’ _perfect_ holy shit. The look on your _face—!”_

Dick’s got his phone up, probably taking pictures, and Babs has a smug look on her face that tells Tim she’s already got the footage of this saved from the Manor security cameras. He makes a mental note to get a copy from her later.

“That is not what Father was wearing earlier. When he entered the room, he was clad in a simple black t-shirt.” Damian’s frowning and reaching over to inspect the material of Bruce’s shirt, ignoring the startled look on the man’s face when Damian practically crawls into his lap to get a better look.

“It’s a press-on design, activated by body heat,” Steph explains, sitting up and still giggling intermittently. “The hardest part was making sure it didn’t activate and show up too fast—”

Tim’s mouth drops open. “Wait, _this_ is why you wanted me to formulate that new time-delayed heat-activated fabric dye? I thought that was for a _case!”_

She grins apologetically at him. “Sorry, ex-Boyfriend, but we can totally still use it for cases later, probably! I’m sure we can think of a way it’ll be useful.”

“Sorry, Babe,” Jason steps across the various bodies in between them so he can squeeze between Dick and Tim on the couch and envelop Tim’s smaller frame in a huge, wonderfully encompassing hug. “You were still busy and stressed as fuck about your project, so I didn’t wanna bring you in on the prank ‘cause I knew you’d worry about it. Didn’t even realize BG went to you for the special compound ‘til just now, or I woulda sent her somewhere else and let you get some damn rest.”

At Jason’s words, Tim feels a soft, sappy smile breaking out so he shoves his face into Jason’s chest to hide it. He probably _would_ have worried about it if he’d known, afraid a push in the wrong direction might sunder the new balance of the Batfamily relationships. “No worries, Jay.” He blinks, thinking about the logistics of the prank. “Wait, how did you guys get him to wear that specific shirt today?”

At the guilty silence which ensues, Tim leans back to stare at Jason. _Oh god, tell me they didn’t—_

Steph’s merry laughter breaks the silence. “We weren’t sure which shirt he was going to wear tonight, so we put one on everything in his closet!”

_Oh dear god._

Everyone turns to look at Bruce, who is just staring into space with a blank expression on his face. Steph’s giggling falls silent as the tension in the room hits her. Even Alfred has a mildly concerned expression on his face, and he’s set his tea cup down carefully on the table at his elbow.

_Please don’t be mad, B…_

If Bruce gets upset about this, it’ll cast a pall on the whole evening, and probably send everyone right back to where they were before he began his improbable journey to becoming closer with his family.

Tim tenses, not wanting to lose the precious opportunity due to an ill-thought out joke.

But what breaks the silence isn’t a terse, angry scolding or Bruce standing abruptly to stalk out of the room. It’s _way_ more shocking than that.

Bruce’s shoulders begin to shake, and a muffled snort escapes the man, causing brows to climb around the room. When it’s followed by loud, unapologetic _belly laughter_ from the normally self-contained man, pleased grins start breaking out as Bruce throws his head back and _laughs._

Tim stares at the sight, a little smile growing on his face as Jason leaves the room and returns a minute later carrying an armful of shirts, apparently gathered from Bruce’s closet, and distributes them to everyone in the room, grinning all the while. Even Alfred carefully tugs one on, to the visible delight of all his grandkids.

Tim watches everyone smiling and laughing together and feels an overwhelming wave of joy rising up at the sight and sound of his _dad,_ his _family_ , mending some of the fractures in their relationships in a way he never dreamed they could. Never thought most of them even _wanted._

 _I never expected_ this, _never even thought to hope for it._

“Todd!” Damian’s shocked exclamation quiets the buzz of laughter and background conversations in the room, and they all turn to see what he’s staring at. His mouth is dropped open and his voice sounds stunned, disbelieving. “You… the _tattoo._ But… it should have faded by now!”

The teen is staring at Jason’s chest, exposed when he stripped off his own shirt to pull on one of Bruce’s doctored t-shirts. Tim’s privately amused to note Jason somehow found a Wonder Woman shirt in Bruce’s closet. It’ll definitely be interesting to see how the Buttman symbol looks against the Wonder Woman design, once is shows up. The result will probably be obscene. Which… is most likely why Jason chose that particular shirt.

Tim smirks, shaking his head. _Oh Jason,_ he thinks, feeling a stupid amount of love and affection for his wonderful, ridiculous boyfriend.

Damian’s still blinking in shock at the sight of his gorgeous design, inked in delicate line work and completed with color now, the phoenix a vivid and beautiful sight on Jason’s sculpted chest. “You… have had it placed upon you for _real?”_ The boy breathes, looking suddenly much younger and more vulnerable.

Jason’s grin softens as he regards his baby brother. “Yeah, kiddo. Was exactly what I wanted, so I got it. Maybe I shoulda asked you first, but I figured you wouldn’t mind.” He huffs a laugh at Damian’s awed stare as the boy breaks into a tiny, pleased smile and then tries to hide it beneath his usual dignity.

“Of course I do not mind, Todd; I drew it for you. What you chose to do with it thereafter is your own business.”

And if his gaze creeps back for one last disbelieving, happy look before Jason manages to tug the new shirt down, well, no one points it out. _Or_ the fact that the tiny little smile stays on his face for the rest of the night.

*

“Wait, wait B don’t you go into that fuckin’ warehouse! Oh you _fucker_ , you’re gonna fuckin’ regret that…” Jason grins like a bastard, knowing exactly what’s coming and not feeling the slightest bit sorry for B. He only gave him any warning at all out of common human decency, and now he’s planning to enjoy the _hilarious_ results guilt-free.

 _Hey, I_ tried _to warn him… asshole brought this shit on himself!_

Jason watches in deep delight as the images on the screen warp and change to the twisted hellscape of horrors that has haunted his nightmares ever since he watched Timmy coding the damn possessed thing.

_I fuckin’ love Tim so goddamn much. He’s the only person who woulda left all those terrifying-ass glitches intact, to be activated by steppin’ into a specific warehouse, just ‘cause I asked him for it._

With a rising sense of glee, Jason watches Bruce twitch slightly, eyes widening at the abrupt scene change into grotesque awfulness.

_I’m gonna give Timmy so many goddamn orgasms for this later…_

Jason’s dimly aware of the horrified shrieks in the background as the rest of the family jumps and physically recoils from the horrors unfolding on the screen, but Jason’s attention is fixed on Bruce.

On the screen, the game’s solidly in glitch mode and Batman’s staggering stolidly forward, despite the fact he now has eyestalks like a goddamn snail that are waving around crazily in the air in front of his cowled face, and his torso is no longer connected to his legs; the damn thing’s just sort of hovering over them and gliding forward all creepy-like as the legs stride on like it ain’t no thing.

Batman reaches the warehouse door and moves through it only to encounter numerous disembodied heads and other body parts which are floating by seemingly at random, except they look kinda familiar now Jason’s staring at them…

“Are those not the gangsters I decimated earlier whilst attempting to trigger Red Hood’s berserker mode?” Damian’s voice is both awed and horrified, his wide eyes fixed on the screen like he can’t bring himself to look away. Jason’s gleefully amused to note the teen and Dick are _clutching each other’s hands_ in an apparently unconscious comfort-seeking move, a _hilarious_ circumstance of which neither seems to be aware.

Jason jerks his head toward them, looking at Babs hopefully, and she nods, smirking wickedly.

 _Thank fuck Babs has footage of all this, it’s gonna be fuckin’_ gold _later_.

On the screen, Batman’s disembodied legs have sunk calf-deep into the floor and yet the asshole’s continuing to move forward, exiting the warehouse and beginning to walk down the street, totally ignoring the floating body parts which bounce off of him with weird squelching sounds and minor spurts of blood as he walks into them.

Bruce fails to react at all to the unending nightmare, except a single raised brow and slightly narrowed eyes. “Tim. What is the purpose of this, I don’t understand why the game is behaving strangely.”

A living thug swims by in the air, seemingly untroubled by the fact he’s six feet off the ground, his head is spinning in slow circles on the pivot of his neck, and his right leg has been replaced by what looks like a spiked baseball bat.

The thug awkwardly attempts to use the baseball bat-leg to attack Batman while floating by, so Batman captures and binds the thug, leaving him hovering in the air where NPC police soon gather beneath the unfortunate abomination to stare up, scratching their heads helplessly while dangling useless handcuffs from their hands before the ground unexpectedly opens up beneath them and they’re all sucked, screaming, into a hellmouth vortex of earth which then closes again with only a single, twitching hand emerging from the sidewalk as though to mark their grave. Jason blinks.

It’s still clutching the handcuffs.

 _What the_ fuck _Timbo, have you been adding_ more glitches _to this shit? That one’s new, and just as terrifying as all the others… Thank fuck I don’t sleep alone these days, this is nightmare fuel for goddamn sure._

As they all watch, horrified, a jumbled mass of random body parts slowly emerges from the ground again, along with a goddamn _burping noise._

_Timmy holy shit what the fuck Babe._

Tim’s snickering into his hand, face red with laughter, clearly unable to answer Bruce’s inquiry, so Jason helps him out. Nightmare-inducing horror-game or not, Timmy’s his beloved, precious boyfriend and Jason’s _always_ got his back. “We can’t tell you, B, you’re supposed to figure it out for yourself!” Hopefully Bruce will keep moving his character around in the game long enough to encounter a few more jump scares and freakish abominations before he figures out there _is_ no point to this, it’s just terrifying for the hell of it.

Bruce makes an expression that can’t be called anything but a _pout_ as he glares at the screen, where his character has somehow warped as though it’s been through a blender, elongated limbs twitching in a swirling tangle around the detached torso which is vibrating madly in the center. His clothes seem to have disappeared for some godawful reason, but that’s okay because he’s just a disembodied torso and limb-pile right now; the naughty bits having somehow mercifully vanished into the nightmare-bringing code.

Of fuckin’ _course,_ Bruce sets his jaw and firmly presses the button to continue moving forward, because he’s the _goddamn Batman_ and it’ll take more than a little dismemberment and macabre monstrosities to stop him _._

The pathetic mess of limbs quivers and then slowly, sadly begins to crawl forward across the sidewalk again as they all watch. Steph whimpers, and Cass pats her back soothingly.

“This effect makes no sense; there are no rogues in the immediate vicinity and the character was not exposed to anything likely to induce hallucinations.” Bruce’s head tilts in thought.

His eyes narrow as he attempts to solve the non-existent in-game mystery. “Perhaps one of those _Gamer Guides_ I’ve seen Damian using while playing computer games would be of some assistance… Damian. How do I find those guides. Do I use Tweeter, or the Google?”

The ensuing horrified silence at _that_ is enough to break even Bruce’s attention away from the game. Dick swallows, looking deeply disturbed, and Tim has a look of hilarious betrayal on his face as he stares at Bruce like he just realized he doesn’t know him at all. He’s mouthing _the Google_ and looking vaguely sickened.

Damian recoils from his father, mouth opening and closing without any words coming out, and Steph’s mouth is gaping as she blinks at Bruce. Babs is snickering and Cass is laughing softly while Alfred’s shaking his head knowingly, which finally clues Jason in to the fact that B is obviously shitting them in revenge for making him play the game in Tim’s creepy-ass glitch mode.

“You _asshole,”_ Jason says admiringly, punching Bruce in the shoulder as the older man finally drops his perplexed, inquiring expression and smirks back at him, eyes alight with mirth. “You’re fuckin’ with us! You bastard, look what you did to Timmy!”

They both look over at Tim, who’s still blinking rapidly as his brain goes through some kinda hard reset over what Bruce said. Bruce has the grace to look mildly regretful, although he’s still smirking. “You were trying to discomfit me with that aspect of your game; this seemed an appropriate response to attempt to disturb you in equal measure.”

Tim finally relaxes again, shaking his head and chuckling. “Ugh, fine. Good job, B. So the game _did_ get to you a little? You weren’t reacting much so I wasn’t sure.”

“It was completely horrifying and I wish to stop playing now,” Bruce answers readily. “The only reason I was able to control my reactions was I suspected something was about to happen, due to the level of Jason’s subdued glee providing me a clue there must be more to this game than met the eye.”

His gaze travels the room and catches on the screen, where the kaleidoscope of horrors is continuing to unfold as the Batman character writhes demonically, moving apparently of its own volition toward the edge of the docks as though planning to throw itself from them and put an end to its miserable existence. Or maybe evolve into its true form of tentacled hellbeast of the depths, and proceed to devour Gotham. Either way.

Bruce swallows, then carefully picks up his controller and exits the game.

Multiple sighs of relief are heard around the room as the screen finally, mercifully goes blank.

Bruce is still staring at the screen, brows lowered in a frown of concentration. “Tim,” he says after a moment. “Have you and Other Tim managed to conquer the problem of trying to send more detailed information than text messages between our universes?”

Tim looks puzzled at the non sequitur, but shrugs. “Well, we _can_ send a lot of information very fast now with the mods we’ve made to the multiversal phones. It works pretty well for sending case files back and forth, anyway.”

Bruce smirks slowly. “Would it work for a computer game?” His expression looks slightly malevolent and he raises an eyebrow and huffs a laugh at their confused stares. “I have been searching for an appropriate vengeance on Other Bruce, in return for him setting me up for his own amusement. You game seems… suitable.”

Tim’s brows fly up. “Um, I could send it, sure. But you’d probably need to get Other Tim and Baby Jay in on it, to make sure B’s the one who triggers the glitch mode…”

Jason chuckles, deeply amused at the thought of another Bruce being horrified by Tim’s scary-ass game. “Hey Babe, this can be our vengeance too, for way back when that asshole made us watch the goddamn slideshow!”

Tim’s eyes light up and he dives for his tablet, already clearly plotting. “You’re _right,_ Jay; oh this is gonna be so good. I’m going to add some more personally tailored glitches to that version, just for him…” He dissolves into muttering, and Jason can only pick out the words _“gigantic nightmare bats…”_

He meets Bruce’s eyes and they share a pleased grin. _Oh, this is gonna be fuckin’_ awesome.

*

Tim isn’t sure how much time has passed while he was buried in a haze of vengeance-driven coding, only that at some point Babs joined in to both assist him and curb some of his more horrifying ideas. “We just want to prank the man, Tim, not give him a fear-induced heart attack or permanently traumatize him.”

As Tim glances around the room, taking in the adjusted positions of his family as various members chat together, play board games or quietly read in the numerous armchairs and couches spread around the large, comfortable room, his ears catch Jason’s deep voice rumbling through the din.

He’s sprawled on the couch, talking to Bruce who is seated beside him with an expression of concern and fondness on his face. Dick’s leaning on the couch at their feet, head tilted back to listen in.

Jason’s gesturing with his hands like he’s in the middle of explaining something. “…So you get it now, right? However weird it might seem to you guys, he _ain't_ my brother. Not to us anyway. I mean, Tim's more like fuckin' _Urkle;_ the weird neighbor kid always hangin’ around no matter how many times everyone told him to go home, who then grew up inexplicably smart and hot and finally managed to seduce the beautiful daughter of the house.”

Bruce looks lost, confused frown gathering at his brow.

Dick blinks. “Um,” he says carefully. “You had me, right up until you referenced a sitcom from the nineties to explain your relationship with Tim. Also… you’re the beautiful daughter in this scenario?” He slowly lifts a skeptical eyebrow.

Everyone stares at Jason, who glares. “What, are you guys implying I ain’t fuckin’ beautiful?” They continue to stare at him, and he shrugs. “Eh, maybe the analogy needs some work.” He reaches out a huge arm and captures Tim, gathering him in and tucking him carefully into his side. “Either way, me and Timmy are together, we _work,_ and we’d appreciate if you guys understood that. Weird as it may seem to you.”

 _“I_ think you’re beautiful, Jason,” Tim whispers, grinning up at his blushing boyfriend.

Bruce clears his throat. “As I told you before, boys, I am happy for you both. After some time observing you together… I could not wish for a better partner, for either of you.” He falls silent and they just stare at him for a moment.

_Wow. Full support from Bruce, holy shit. This all still feels like some kind of dream._

Voice choked in his throat, Tim just mutely opens his arms. Bruce’s eyes widen before he slowly, awkwardly leans in and hugs both Tim and Jason, with Tim squashed uncomfortably in the middle.

It’s awesome.

“Now I feel a tiny bit bad about the crazy game glitches I just programmed in to prank Other Bruce. I mean, _he’s_ the reason we’re all here right now like this.” Tim smiles a little.

Jason snorts, drawing back from the hug and pulling Tim along with him. _“I’m_ still fuckin’ confused about how B was kidnapped to another universe by Other B, who just punched him and called him out on his shit, _exactly like I’ve done more than once_ , and it actually fuckin’ got _through_ to him this time somehow. I mean, why _now?”_

Dick sits up, eyes widening a little. “Wait… I think it actually makes a lot of sense! I mean, yeah, we've all called him out for being an asshole _multiple times_ over the years _,_ sometimes with punches involved, and he never listened to _us,_ but that's because when it comes down to it he doesn't readily accept the opinion of anyone but…” He raises his brows expectantly.

“Himself. Oh fuckin' _snap!_ B, ya fuckin' narcissistic bastard.” Jason leans back into the couch, crowing.

Bruce face palms.

“And then, of course, all of the suspicious overtures which we interpreted as flawed acting and clumsy attempts at infiltration were in fact Father's efforts to apologize, guided by the Other Bruce for the dual purpose of our betterment as a family and his own devious personal amusement.” Damian nods, eyes falling closed where he lies stretched in the corner of the couch, Titus curled around him. “Drake, your computer game is simultaneously an appropriate punishment and expression of gratitude; it will both horrify and please Father, as we have seen this evening. You should send it as soon as possible.”

Tim grins, waving his multiversal phone through the air. “It’s already on its way.”

Dick relaxes back into the couch, scratching his head. “B really did make a real effort at trying to apologize, despite the way it ended up working out. _I’m_ impressed.”

 _“I'm_ surprised he didn't just make us all apology slideshows, considering how attached he is to his horrible sex education one, and how much easier he finds it to communicate through planned presentations as opposed to actually spontaneously using his words.” Tim snorts, shaking his head ruefully.

“Hey, words are hard for some people!” Steph whacks him gently in the face with a pillow, giggling as they begin a minor pillow fight that lasts until Alfred quells them with a single lifted brow.

Jason’s laughing and looking around the room when he catches sight of the arrested look of concentration on Bruce’s face, which lit up with unholy glee at Tim’s words. “Oh shit look at his face, he's fuckin' _thinkin'_ about it now! Damn it, Baby Bird!”

Tim winces apologetically, realizing they will not be able to avoid the inevitable long, horrifically detailed apology slideshows he’s apparently just called into being with his ill-advised words. “Yikes, sorry guys.”

He presses his lips together, then shrugs philosophically. “Well, as much as this is going to legitimately suck, it still beats the _other_ slideshow.”

“Indubitably.” Damian nods vociferous agreement, having been subjected to the _other_ slideshow himself quite recently. Steph snorts her agreement and Cass nods solemnly.

Dick chuckles, shaking his head and grinning over at them. “Oh god yes.”

“Fuck it, when you're right you're right, Timmy.” Jason tugs Tim back into his arms, grinning, and Tim laughs into his boyfriend’s warm, solid chest.

 _It’s hard to believe this is really my life, that I can_ have _this…_

He leans back, smiling, so Jason can press a soft kiss to his lips before settling back to just hold each other close.

 _But it’s real. And it’s_ ours.

Tim looks around the room at his happy, amicably bickering family from the warm comfort of Jason’s arms, and it’s like a rising tide of joy and comfort lifting him from within, filling him up and spilling out as laughter.

And he doesn’t regret any of it, the long, difficult path they’ve traveled to get here, because it brought them to each other, to this moment, right here and right now. With his family, with _Jason._ To the brink of a future that fills him with hope instead of dread.

_This is where I want to be, where I belong._

Tim turns back to Jason, who’s watching him with a stupidly soft look in his eyes and a grin on his gorgeous filthy mouth, and _smiles,_ bright and jubilant like the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Bruce, eying screen suspiciously:** “What is this sorcery” *Lifts arm to throw controller through screen*  
>  **Tim, catching B’s arm:** “Wait B it’s just a computer game! Look” *Plays game, makes exaggerated happy noises* “See it’s FUN”  
>  **Bruce, even more suspiciously:** “What is this FUN it sounds awful” *Tentatively joins children in playing game. Beats up numerous criminals, unwillingly smiles*  
>  **Jason, having none of that:** “Hey B go in that shady-lookin’ warehouse!” *Tosses B’s character into creepy warehouse, throws game into nightmare glitch mode*  
>  **Everyone else, staring in horror:** “Oh sweet JESUS TIM WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU WHY DID YOU CODE THIS EVIL” *Edge away without turning backs on abominations on screen or blinking*  
>  **Dick, sadly, to himself:** “I KNEW he didn’t get hugged enough as a child” *Hugs a struggling, protesting Tim to try to make up for it*  
>  **Bruce, soiling himself:** “I was right, fun IS awful” *Throws controller through screen, sighs in relief as terrifying horrors finally disappear. Stops. Grins* “Hey Tim can we send a copy of this to Other Bruce? I think he’ll like it”  
>  **Tim, with a maniacal grin:** “Heck yeah! Hold on lemme just add a little extra trauma- there we go! Sent!” *Cackles, clutching multiversal phone and eighth cup of coffee to his heart*  
>  **Jason, smiling lovingly:** “That’s my boy! C’mere Babe, gimme some sugar” *Cuddles and kisses Tim as reward for enacting their terrible vengeance on Other B*  
>  **Bruce, staring at them long enough to be creepy:** “I am surprisingly okay with this” *Looks around room full of happy family, is humbled by human capacity for forgiveness. Wears Buttman shirt proudly*  
>  **Everyone else, donning Buttman shirts in solidarity:** “Oh hells yeah! Rock it, B!”  
>  **Alfred, somehow making a Buttman shirt look classy:** “Indeed, sir. Rock it, indeed.” *Bestows approving gaze upon Bruce*  
>  **Tim, reading multiversal phone and smiling happily:** “Hey guys, Other Tim already got Other B into glitch mode! Other B has vowed vengeance… something about a universe where the ages are reversed and all of us are adults in a gigantic polyamorous marriage, raising a young B as our child?” *Shrugs in confusion*  
>  **Bruce, passing out in horror at the thought:** “…”  
>  **Everyone else, staring at him for a moment then shrugging:** “Wanna play some more?” *Turn game back on, play through the night amidst laughter, jokes, mad cackling, and B waking up and rejoining game* “Best game night EVER”  
>  *  
> …And that’s a wrap! Thank you to everyone who has read, given kudos, or commented on this story, and thank you all for hanging in there with me as I wrestled with my day job before coming back to finish this. 
> 
> This series has been a delight to write, and I truly appreciate the encouragement you guys have given me, which helps inspire me to keep going. I’m planning a couple more little stories for this series, but it’ll probably be a bit before work slows down enough to actually write them. 
> 
> Meanwhile, if you’re interested in reading more, I participated in [Jaytim Week](http://jaytimweek.tumblr.com/) recently and filled one of the prompts with one of the other time travel ideas I had before settling on the plot of Where’s My Goddamn Dinosaur. So if you want to read a might-have-been for this universe, go check it out [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16602452/chapters/38939624#workskin)
> 
> Thanks again to all who have read, given kudos or commented on this story and series!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Where's My Goddamn Batarang?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18796786) by [AdamantVibranium_SuperBoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantVibranium_SuperBoy/pseuds/AdamantVibranium_SuperBoy)




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